


How We Got Here

by sapphireangel



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, NSFW in later chapters, Slow Burn, first half of Awakening, loosely follows in-game events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireangel/pseuds/sapphireangel
Summary: Sometimes you can find love out in the middle of a field—a retelling of the first half of Fire Emblem: Awakening that covers the developing relationship between Chrom and his tactician, Robin.  Chrom and Robin deal with their insecurities and bouts of jealousy, Robin develops close platonic relationships with Sumia and Lissa, and Chrom finds that there’s only one person in the world he feels comfortable fully opening up to.  This story covers the first-half of the game (FE:A prologue- chapter 12).





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! If you've read "Step By Step, Day By Day" and "Begin Again" then you'll be happy (or sad?) to know that this work takes place in the same universe as those two fics! I hope you enjoy this...extremely long fic that I've been developing for the last year or so! I'll do my best to keep updates frequent and of high quality. I also hope you enjoy this spin on a story that, admittedly, has probably been retold hundreds of times.

“…We have to do something…”

“What do you propose we do?”

“I-I don’t know!”

_Two sleeping dragons—one a sacred ally of mankind, the other its sworn destroyer_.  
_Two heroes marked with the symbols of the dragons._  
_Their meeting heralds the dragons’ awakening, and the world’s ending…_

“I see you’re awake now,” the young man said, the girl beside him giggling at the sight of such a confused and flustered stranger laying upon the ground, “there are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know?”

The stranger looked towards the man, eyes continuing to flutter with hesitation before she eventually grabbed the hand offered to her. On a silent count of three, the man lifted her to her feet with ease. Disoriented by the sudden awakening, the stranger stumbled only slightly into him, to which he chuckled and took a step back.

The man looked, nay, gazed upon her for a brief moment before saying with a soft stutter, “Sorry for interrupting your nap, but it’s not often we see random people sleeping in the middle of a field around here.”

“You looked pretty conked out, too.” The younger girl pointed out, “Drool and everything!”

“Drool?” the stranger coughed, instantly running her hand along her chin, “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“It happens to the best of us,” the man pointed out, “but all is well, friend. May we by chance know your name?”

“My name?” she muttered, “My…name?”

Yet nothing came to her. A blank. If anything, a slight pang in her skull forced her to wince before shaking her head in defeat,

“I don’t actually know,” she explained, “I can’t seem to remember my own name, Chrom.”

Chrom. _His_ name. He cocked a brow while looking towards the woman next to him, who glanced between the two with bewilderment,

“Do you know her, Chrom?”

“I…can’t say that I do, Lissa.”

“But she can’t remember her own name?” the woman presumed to be Lissa asked, “Wait, do you even know where you are?”

“I fear that I do not.”

“So you don’t know your name and you don’t know where you are. Hmm.” Lissa tapped her chin for a moment, “Oh! That must be that amnesia thing I was reading about.”

“Amnesia?” Chrom asked,

“Yeah! It’s a thing where people forget things…I think.”

“That’s no entirely helpful.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s a cure for it or anything!” she shot back, “I mean, from what I’ve read, it sometimes happens when people hit their heads or something. Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t remember…” the woman replied, “But it doesn’t feel like I did.”

“Strange,” Chrom muttered, “still, if you don’t know where you are, or even who you are, how would you know my name?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” She said, allowing her hands to fall to her sides, “I’m sorry for troubling you two like this.”

“Nonsense,” despite his confusion, Chrom managed a smile to reflect his friendly nature, “it’s our duty to help people in need, and you, my friend, are someone who certainly needs our help.”

“You make it seem like I’m entirely helpless.”

“You don’t know where you are.” Chrom repeated, “And as for your name-”

“Robin.” The word left her lips with ease. That sounded right—Robin. She felt it was a name she heard many a time before. It felt like it was her own. “My name is Robin. I…I just remembered, now.”

“Robin?” Chrom repeated once more, “Hmm…if that’s what you wish to be called, then I see no issue in assuming that’s your name.”

“Robin! Yeah! You look like a Robin!” Lissa exclaimed cheerfully, “Like the bird, right?”

“I suppose that’s the case, yes.” Robin gave Lissa a complying nod, “So, could you two tell me where I am?”

“You’re in the Halidom of Ylisse,” Chrom explained, “Does that sound familiar to you?”  
“I’m afraid not.” Robin said with a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest while kicking at the ground in frustration, “This is perplexing, I’ll admit.”

“Well, we’re not going to leave you out here by yourself.”

“Yeah! We’ll at least see you to the next town over so you can get somewhere safe.” Lissa chimed in, “Maybe someone there will recognize you. Maybe you’re some patient of some crazy doctor and they’re actually looking for you!”

“Oh…” Robin’s voice trailed off with a furrowed brow. Perhaps she should have been left alone after all…

“Lissa, she doesn’t even look like she belongs in a priory.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.” Robin muttered.

The pair seemed friendly at first, but after that last statement she felt mildly alienated. Confused and admittedly lost, Robin was about to excuse herself to wander aimlessly before the sound of steel shifting against steel caught her off guard. Then approached what appeared to be a giant, clad in blue and silver armor with wild brown hair and a facial expression that read, ‘take one step closer and I will end you’. With a lance pointed in her direction, Robin raised her hands and stood still in a cold sweat.

“Frederick!” Lissa coughed, “Woah woah! Put that lance down!”

“Explain yourself,” he grunted, “I have overheard the conversation as such. An amnesiac? I’ve heard better excuses from brigands. Milord, milady, I advise you to stand back at once-”

“It’s all right, Frederick.” Chrom began, “I don’t think she means any harm, really. If anything, she seems lost. Must we always accuse innocents of wishing harm upon Lissa and I?”

“If I were to be lax in my judgment, I would be doing Lady Emmeryn a disservice.” Frederick argued back, “What makes you think this woman isn’t a Plegian spy?”

“Plegian?” Robin interjected, “I-I’m sorry I don’t even know what a ‘Plegian’ is…”

“Horse plop! How can one not be aware of our neighbors to the west?”

“I barely even know where I am now.”

“A likely story.” And yet, the man known to be ‘Frederick’ lowered his lance back to his side, “I will not have you leave my sight...”

“I’m sorry about this,” Chrom turned back to Robin with an apologetic look in his eyes, “Frederick is my vassal, you see. He’s very proficient in his position, but I’ll admit he can be overbearing at times.”

“Over-bear-ing!” Lissa snickered, “Get it? Because he looks like a bear!”

All he could do was groan at her banter. The man looked aged, and Robin could see how with Lissa merely existing around him. But the lighthearted air of the situation brought a soft smile to the woman’s lips. Even the moment after having her life threatened, she felt a sort of warmth from the three of them. Perhaps these strangers weren’t all that bad.

She locked eyes with Chrom for a moment as he looked towards her awaiting her approval. Did he want her to feel welcome? It seemed so by the hospitable look in his eyes. For a man who walked around in full armor, with a rather large sword at his side, accompanied by a man nearly half a foot taller than him (clad in heavy armor, nonetheless), Chrom didn’t seem the type to offer a hand towards someone he’d never met, let alone show them that much kindness. Perhaps it was more of his younger companion that possibly kept him from showing the same violence as the knight. Robin couldn’t quite tell, but perhaps in time she would learn more about this man, clad in blue, with a single sleeve sewn into his tunic…

In fact, she was about to inquire on his strange fashion before the sound of screeching broke the serenity of that moment. A lone villager, charred pitchfork in hand, came running towards the group with panicked breath,

“Please!” he shouted, “Please help us! Brigands! Brigands in the village! They’re burning everything! Please!”

Chrom ripped his sights away from Robin, staring at the young man with a completely different demeanor. Soft eyes hardened, and brow furrowed with irritation as if this weren’t the first time someone had called upon him for help for this specific situation. Did this land have a barbarian problem? Robin couldn’t help but to wonder if she had woken up in some sort of war-torn country.

“Brigands, you say?” he retorted, “Stay calm, villager. We’ll see to it that they disperse. Show us the way!”

“But, Chrom! What about Robin?” Lissa yelped, “We can’t just leave her here!”

“She’ll be fine. We have our duty to uphold. Come!”

And just like that, the three of them ran along with the frightened villager. She couldn’t allow them to go off like that and leave her be, not when she owed them a debt. She hoped that there was some way she could help. Robin peered down to her belt, now feeling the weight of two objects strapped to her side—a bronze blade and what appeared to be a book. A tome, to be exact. But she couldn’t ponder this for long as she began to lose sight of the group. Thus, the woman followed, unbuckling the book from her hip in a manner which felt second-nature to her.

 

These motions. This feeling. Had she seen battle before?

 

The smoke from the blazing church clouded the sky, creating a brown haze which loomed over the town with its ashy presence. Women screamed for their lives, children ran in search for a safe haven, and a few men lay in the streets wounded before the church, which was actively being plundered as the group approached. Chrom drew his blade alongside his knight, whose mount whinnied with a fierce battle cry.

“How many are there, Frederick?” Chrom asked,

“From what I can see, Milord, we’re quite outnumbered with just the two of us.”

“Damn.” Chrom hissed, “So we’re talking five or six?”

“More like nine or ten. A small group, but it looks like they’ve got the chapel surrounded.”

“Chrom, what do we do!?” Lissa hissed, “You two can’t take on that many alone!”

“We have no choice, Lissa.”

“I ask that you stay back and tend to the wounded,” Frederick stated, “fear not about our health.”

“I can’t let you two go in alone!”

“I can’t risk you getting hurt, Lissa. You only have a staff!” Chrom shot back, “Please listen to Frederick-”

“Wait! Wait! Just—just wait a second before you charge in!”

The group turned to the out-of-breath woman behind them. Robin had followed them, much to Chrom’s surprise,

“Robin?” Chrom asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to assist you.” She explained, straightening herself and showing the open book to her comrades, “I believe before you found me I was a tactician of sorts. Look at these notes along this tome’s pages. They’re battle strategies, I-I think.”

“You think?” Chrom cocked his brow, “Well, I mean, you’re not wrong. They do look like notes you’ve taken, but will that help our situation?”

“Well, as I was running in, all of a sudden I just…I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I can sense the enemy’s movement. Like I’ve seen this setup before, or something similar. I know it sounds farfetched-”

“We shall not leave our lives in the hands of an amnesiac.” Frederick growled, “If you cannot raise a blade, you should stay back.”

Chrom raised his hand to his knight for a moment, “Let’s hear her out, Frederick. She wants to help, so let’s see what plan she has in mind. We’re not exactly in the position to decline any sound advice.”

“What? ‘Sound’ advice?! She barely even knows her name and profession!”

“Please, peace.” Robin clenched her tome for a moment, trying to keep her thoughts straight, “I assure you that I can be of help. It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s a tome, right? You know magic, then!” Lissa eyed the book in the woman’s hands, “That’s gonna be a big help. It means we have someone else who can fight, too!”

“What have you got in mind, Robin? We’ll hear you out.” Chrom said.

“Thank you, Chrom.” Robin looked towards the surrounded church as the group hid amidst the market stalls, “It appears they have that area well-defended, but judging by their stature and weaponry, they’re not exactly trained soldiers. It means they’ll act on impulse, and judging by the bodies in the street they’ll attack indiscriminately. So even though we’re outnumbered, we can draw them out towards us and away from the building.”

“Are you insinuating we use ourselves as bait?” Chrom asked,

“I know it doesn’t sound too appealing, but let’s consider our strengths. Frederick is well-defended and can move quickly, so if we can have him charge in with the initial blow, Chrom and I can pick off the weakened stragglers with our weaponry combined.” She looked towards Lissa with a nod, “Lissa, you can stay behind Chrom and I and aide us as such.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lissa muttered, clenching her staff with an anxious stutter in her voice, “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“Good.” Robin looked back towards Frederick and Chrom, “How does that sound? We can easily take them on if we have a plan, rather than just running it. It’ll keep us from suffering any injuries either, so long as Frederick hits hard and fast-”

“This is suicide,” Frederick interjected, “you’re telling me to run in there alone-”

“Yes, I am.” Robin’s voice did not waver when speaking against the intimidating giant, “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“It seems like a sound plan,” Chrom said, “Frederick is by far the strongest of the three of us. I have faith that he can accomplish this task unharmed.”

“Milord-”

“Am I wrong?” Chrom asked with a cheeky smirk, “Even you say that you’ll hold the line, so long as you draw breath, right?”  
Frederick furrowed his brow in defiance, but ultimately drew his lance and reared his steed towards the church, “Milord and Lady Lissa are not to be harmed. If one shall fall, I will have no mercy, Robin.”

“Chrom and Lissa will be safe, I promise.” Robin replied, “You have my word.”

Frederick gave the woman a wary nod, but with little hesitation after did the knight charge towards the brigands with lance in hand. Most fell, but the few that survived found their lives ending at either the tip of Chrom’s blade or turned to ash from Robin’s fire magic. Lissa straggled behind, but she kept her staff close and only used it a few times when Chrom found himself being flanked. But when he was caught off guard, Robin somehow was able to counter his foes with little effort on her part. Chrom’s blade appeared to dance along Robin’s fire—a display which found Lissa’s watchful gaze and even distracted her for a brief moment.

How did the two of them work so well in sync if they had never met?

It wasn’t long before the group of four drew the leader out of the church, and with one swift blow did Frederick smash his lance to the brigand’s skull. He fell with ease, and the villagers took back their sacred hold with only a few casualties. Despite the blood on the pavement and the smoldering remains of the holy roof, the villagers celebrated a small victory on that day, praising the four of them as heroes and offering them a gift of edible delights and a warm bed…

…To which Frederick denied, much to Lissa and Robin’s displeasure.

Lissa argued with Frederick for the time being, but as that banter went about, Robin stood alone, staring at the church with a slumped shoulders.

“Friend,” Chrom stated as he approached her, “are you ok?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” Robin said, “I guess I’m just taking it all in.”

“It was quite the fight, I’ll admit. I’ve never really gone against that many people being so outnumbered…” Chrom trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and biting his lip,

“Did you have something to say?” Robin asked curiously upon seeing this display,

“Ah, uhm, yeah, actually.” Chrom cleared his throat, “What you did back there was…I’ll admit, it was incredible. You really did seem to know the enemy’s movements and the like. You really are a tactician by trade, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am.” Robin admitted sheepishly, “I guess that was my profession before you found me. I appreciate your praise, really.”

“Well, I didn’t approach you just to praise you.” He stopped for a moment, eyes widening and cheeks flushing, “I mean—yeah I did. I mean, yeah, you did a good job, and I’m praising that. A really good job, actually! So good of a job that I, uh…I don’t know how to really put this without potentially offending you-”

“Just take a breather,” Robin said with a soft laugh, “it’s alright, Chrom.”

“Gods,” he grunted, “what I mean to say is that I’d like to offer you a job.”

“Hm? Do you want me to be your tactician?”

“I don’t know what plans you had in mind after this little meeting, but I’d like you to come with us back to Ylisstol. I think your abilities could help aid us, and honestly, I think we work well as a team.”

“You think so?” she blinked a few times, “I guess I don’t really have much of a choice…”

“I wasn’t forcing you, I promise!” he coughed,

“No!” she shot back, “No, what I meant was—Sure, I’ll join your group. It would be my pleasure, actually. Plus, it’s the least I can do, you know?”

Chrom’s flustered expression turned back into that of a pleasant smile, “You owe us nothing, Robin. But I’ll admit, I’m really glad you’ll be coming back with us. Thank you.”

“No, I thank _you_ , Chrom,” she replied with an outstretched hand, “I think this’ll be the beginning of a wonderful partnership.”

His hand grasped hers, giving it a firm shake,

“I couldn’t agree more, Robin…”


	2. Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lissa, Chrom, Frederick, and Robin set up camp for the night. Robin finds out more about Chrom’s little sister.

“I can’t believe you’re making us sleep outside again.” Lissa whined behind Frederick, “They offered beds! Comfy beds! With pillows and blankets!” 

“Lady Lissa, I know it’s not to your liking, but your complaints are going to fall on deaf ears. We’ve no time to waste heading back to Ylisstol.” Frederick replied, “One more night outside won’t kill you.”

“It might! Who knows what sorts of bugs could crawl up and bite me, you know? What if something poisonous gets in my boot?!” She quickly turned to Robin, though she continued to playfully walk backwards while addressing her new friend, “Am I right, Robin? You probably hate bugs, too, yeah?”

“I can’t say I’m a fan.” She replied. Lissa instantly turned back around to shout at Frederick once more,

“See? Robin doesn’t like bugs either! This is so lame.”

“At the very least, she’s not complaining.” Frederick muttered. 

“I heard that!”

They seemed like a colorful cast of characters in Robin’s eyes. Frederick being the cold, stoic man that held the group together. Lissa was the playful spirit, most likely there to lift morale. And then there was Chrom, who seemed to keep to himself for the most part. A man of few words, she thought. Aside from Frederick’s initial introduction, they all seemed rather friendly, almost as if they were a family. 

“So, Chrom,” Robin began as she trailed alongside him, “why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself…”

“Myself?” he asked, “I wouldn’t say my story is an interesting one. Admittedly, I’m just a shepherd tending to his sheep. I do what I can to keep people in Ylisse safe, which is why I’m the leader of a small militia that takes care of brigands like the ones we fought earlier.”

“I see. So I suppose I will be the tactician of this group?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working with the men and women in our group for a very long time, but we’re always welcoming new members who share the same ideals as us. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with them.”

“But they’re all fighters, right?” Her sights shifted to Lissa, “What about Lissa? Might I ask why she’s along with you? I mean no disrespect, but-”

“Oh, uhm, Lissa’s my sister,” he explained, “I guess we never really properly introduced ourselves sans giving you our names.”

“I heard my name!” Lissa once again turned on her heel, walking backwards to converse with her brother, “What are you two talkin’ about?”

“I was just telling Robin about the Shepherds.”

“So you’re Chrom’s little sister?” Robin asked,

“Yep! But I’m more than just his ‘little sister’ ya know?”

“Right, she’s my delicate little sister.” Chrom added.

“I am _not_ delicate!” Lissa growled, “I can do my part in this army just like anyone else. No one else here can handle stitching up wounds or cleaning up barf. Except maybe Frederick…but Chrom’s just a big weenie. A big jerk of a weenie!”

In an instant his face lit up as red as the setting sun. He had no retort, just a mortified look on his features which seemed to worsen when his eyes met Robin’s. While Robin could tell that Lissa’s accusations weren’t true, simply with how easily Chrom could cut down an enemy, there was absolutley nothing worse than being verbally dragged by your younger sibling in front of a stranger. She felt that it was out of place to scold Lissa, or even defend Chrom for that matter. Instead, the tactician placed her palm upon her visage to cover her lips, keeping her smile out of Chrom’s sight. When he looked towards her once more, his lips moved as if he were to speak, yet no words came out. Truly the man had no way to defend himself. 

“It’s getting dark. Perhaps we should make camp here for the night.” Chrom coughed, clearing his throat as if to signal to his knight. Frederick quickly stopped in his tracks and his steed whinnied in surprise.

“A fine idea, Milord.” He said, “We should secure a safe area at once. Afterwards, we will have to acquire some sort of game.”

“That’s fine. While we do that, Robin and Lissa can start up the fire.”

“You’d think I’d leave her in the care of a stranger?” Frederick hissed, “Milord-”

“I think Robin can keep Lissa safe, Frederick. Give her some credit.”

“…Very well.”

Much to Frederick’s dismay, the group split into two once a clearing in the forest served as their campsite. Chrom decided to follow Frederick back into the woods to hunt, while Lissa and Robin found themselves in idle chatter while carrying tinder back to camp.

“So you really don’t know much about yourself or your past?” Lissa asked,

“Nothing at all. My mind’s a total blank.” Robin said with a soft sigh, “Some things are coming back to me, like things I’ve studied in the past, though I can’t say I remember where I studied them or how per say. Menial things like my favorite food, color, and other personality traits are also back to me. However, I can’t say I know where I’m from, nor do I know of any friends or family…”

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like this in person.”

“Have you been studying medicine for long, Lissa?”

“I’m trying,” Lissa dropped the sticks right in the center of camp, “my big sister wanted to study medicine when she was younger, but some stuff happened and she can’t really do that anymore. So…I thought that maybe I could study in her stead. I mean, she knows a lot of healing magic and stuff. I thought maybe she could help me, ya know? Maybe we could have something to bond over.”

“But is it what you want to do?” Robin asked,

“I-I don’t know for sure.” Lissa explained, “I mean, I’m pretty decent at it, and my best friend is really good at it. We’ve been studying together and it’s sorta interesting to me. Plus, I like helping people!”

“That’s noble of you.” Robin said with a smile, “I surely appreciate your efforts. That scratch I got is completely gone thanks to your help.”

“I just wish that maybe I could do more.” Lissa’s tone dropped, eyes falling to the ground, “I know you don’t know us that well, but I really hate when my brother calls me delicate.”

“I could tell.” Robin inched towards her, “Have you ever talked to him about it?”

“Not really.” Lissa admitted, her lip quivering slightly, “But that’s not important. I just hope you know that I’m plenty strong on my own. Don’t listen to my brother when he says stuff like that, please.”

“I’m sure Chrom sees you in a good light, Lissa,” Robin hummed, gently patting Lissa’s shoulder, “he’s your brother, after all. He seems like he means well, at least to me. But if it truly bothers you, I think you should talk with him.”

“Like he’d listen,” she huffed with puffed cheeks, “Chrom’s just a giant meathead.”

“Say what, Lissa?” Chrom called out from beyond the trees, “Did I hear, ‘Chrom’s got a giant thing of meat’? Yeah. I do actually. We got a whole bear!”

“Bear…” Lissa groaned, “Aww man. Why bear? You two couldn’t catch something normal people eat!?”

“What? Would you prefer squirrel?” Chrom asked with a grunt, yanking the catch towards the fire. Frederick followed behind, but the look on his features also signaled that maybe bear wasn’t exactly palatable for him either.

“Deer maybe?” Lissa asked, “Or maybe a pheasant?”

“This isn’t their domain.” Frederick sighed, “But if you want to eat tonight, this will be our meal.”

“I don’t mind,” Robin added, “food is food.” Chrom gave the tactician a firm nod,

“Alright, then let’s carve this guy out and get to roasting.”

Robin watched in awe (and Lissa, in disgust) as Chrom and Frederick began skinning and preparing the meat. A simple roast over the fire with no seasoning would do, and the smell of the burning flesh was akin to the smell of burning boots. Unpleasant, unappetizing, and certainly something which could bring a tear to your eye. But when offered a piece of the finished product, Robin grabbed hold and consumed the meat without hesitation. It felt as if she hadn’t eaten in days. While it was tough, unseasoned, and absolutely gamey, Robin immediately asked for more without a second thought. 

“She must have a stomach of steel,” Lissa muttered under her breath, “there’s no way I can keep this stuff down.”

“It’s not that bad, Lissa.” Chrom pointed out, “I mean, if you don’t pay attention to the smell and the taste, it’s pretty easy going down.”

“Gross.” 

“Do you eat bear often?” Robin asked between bites,

“No.” Lissa replied, “We actually have _real_ food back home, which I’m going to stuff my face with when we get back, mind you.”

“You won’t have to ‘stuff your face’ if you eat your meal now.” Frederick added. Lissa’s eyes widened before she glared at the knight,

“You haven’t even touched your helping!”

“I had a big breakfast.” 

“I can’t believe this…”

The group fell quiet after the small exchange, Robin and Chrom continuing to eat their fill while Frederick and Lissa chose to abstain. But the silence was calming; perhaps the group began to reflect on what had happened that day. Lissa was the first to fall asleep, followed by Frederick and eventually Robin curled up in the grass in the same fashion to which she was found. While she felt exhausted, her eyes couldn’t quite close that moment, not when she felt another presence awake at that time. Although he lay on the opposite side of the fire pit, Robin could see Chrom laying on his back with eyes wide open. She pondered what she could say to him, but ultimately kept quiet in fear that she would wake Chrom’s sister or knight. Her hand shifted a little to see if he’d react, and sure enough he turned his head slightly and their gazes met. Yet their exchange was short lived, Robin somewhat instinctively darting her eyes away from him after feeling an odd heat in her cheeks. 

Chrom felt a stiffness in his shoulders and had no choice but to sit up, to which Robin shifted to her other side—away from him. Chrom quietly cleared his throat before eventually getting to his feet, unable to sleep, and in need of a bit of fresh air. 

This stirred Lissa, who in time went to her brother’s side to keep him company on his walk.

But then the earth shook…and chaos rained from the sky.


	3. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having faced a new enemy now known as the "Risen", the group hurries back to Ylisstol with little to no sleep. Chrom discusses with Robin whether she wishes to continue to be his tactician or not. Robin also learns something new about him...

Neither Chrom nor Lissa expected to see the undead fall from the sky the night before. The earth shattered, releasing fire and trapping the two of them against a sea of what came to be known as ‘Risen’. A young man, one who took the name ‘Marth’, aided Chrom in protecting his sister, yet he was nowhere to be found once a battle broke out between the living and the dead. However, Robin’s tactics once again proved to be unrivaled as the small group, aided by a young knight named Sully and her admirer, Virion, cleared the small brigand with very few injuries. A scratch or two wouldn’t stain Robin’s record, but after the scuffle she found herself slightly shaken at what she had seen. Lissa as well. 

The group pressed on towards Ylisstol with little to no sleep; Robin showing visible signs of fatigue while Lissa found herself seated upon Frederick’s horse, unable to go on with how weak she was from hunger.

“I won’t eat it,” she muttered, “don’t make me.”

It seemed that in her tired state, Lissa acted more like a child than anything. Robin feared for her safety, but Chrom simply shrugged it off,

“She’ll be fine,” he told Robin as they trailed behind Frederick and Lissa, “I’ll admit, it’s the first time she’s seen actual battle. Beforehand, Lissa just bandaged up our wounds from time to time. She’s seen some pretty nasty stuff, just not first-hand.”

“Are you yourself used to this sort of thing?” she asked,

“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen what we fought last night before, no.” he rolled his shoulders slightly, clenching his jaw for a moment, “…But we beat them, right? We got through it—thanks to you, of course.”

“You’ve no need to thank me for every skirmish.” She shot back, “It’s my job, right?”

“Hey, I-” the words seemed caught in his throat, “I didn’t mean when I said I would hire you that you’re just a tactician, Robin. I mean, you are a tactician, but here in the Shepherds we see everyone as part of something greater. Everyone has talents that they bring to the table, and we all work as one to keep Ylisse safe. So, when I thank you…I mean it. I don’t know how well that fight would have played out had you not been there.”

Robin felt the heat in her cheeks—she was too exhausted to deal with such feelings. His commendation, his reassuring words, the confidence and leadership radiating from his person—who was this ‘Chrom’? Why was his praise towards her so satisfying? Her tired eyes darted away from him while she continued forward,

“Forgive me,” she began, “I suppose I’m a little shaken after seeing such horrible creatures.”

“Robin,” he stopped in his tracks for a moment, Robin skidding to a halt and wondering why Chrom was allowing the rest of the party to advance,

“Chrom, what about-?”

“I don’t know if it’ll be the last time we see creatures like that…If you wish not to be my tactician, that’s fine,” he admitted, though in a somber tone, “I understand that being in the position you’re in is extremely stressful—to have the lives of your friends and followers in your hands, to have them all relying on you…it’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. It wears on you. It isn’t something that just anyone can handle, Robin. Once we reach Ylisstol, you’ll be free to go.”

“That’s an offer I simply cannot accept, Chrom.”

“Don’t feel as if you’re in some blood-binding contract-”

“I don’t feel that way at all. The Risen were just something that caught me off guard—unsettling to me, as well. It’s hard to explain, really. But, I’ll be fine, I promise. Working with you and the Shepherds will give me a purpose, as I seem to have lost mine with my memories...”

A soft sigh escaped him, “I’m sure one day you’ll get your memories back.”

“Perhaps. But for now, I only hope that you’ll continue to allow me by your side and take some of that weight off of your shoulders.”

The pair took a moment of silence to look upon one another, Robin smiling towards Chrom with the hope that her remark gave him a sense of reassurance. And indeed it did, for the man’s stiff posture relaxed along with a long exhale in relief. He even laughed, motioning her to follow him in order to catch up with the rest, 

“I think you’ll enjoy the Shepherds, Robin. Many of them have been mine and Lissa’s friends since we were little. A very loyal bunch of soldiers, I find. While some might be a bit disorganized or forgetful, I think you’ll find their talents to be of good use in your tactics.”

“Really now?” Robin picked up the pace alongside her friend, “Why don’t you tell me more about them?”

And all the way to Ylisstol, Chrom spoke of his friends to Robin. He highlighted their strengths, spoke of old sparring sessions, discussed with her which solider needed work with what weapon. While she knew nothing of the names he gave her aside from Lissa and Sully, Robin felt a surge of excitement that coincided with his own. Chrom’s enthusiasm was simply contagious, and once again Robin felt a sense of familiarity with him—the way he spoke to her, then so casually, gave her comfort. She simply did not wish for their conversation to end, and Chrom felt the same way. He enjoyed seeing her face light up with interest when he brought up Miriel’s magical prowess, and he chuckled when her features turned sour upon the mention of Vaike’s unwillingness to keep focus. But she was determined to fix that, and even a small wager was made to see if she could successfully whip the man into shape within the next few months. 

And the conversation bled into their entrance to Ylisstol, Robin not even aware that their path had them marching in the direction of the castle. Lissa perked up from her slouched state, yawning before singing softly,

“Home sweet home.”

“I’ll admit, it’ll be nice to sleep in a warm bed for once,” Chrom chuckled, “I hope Emm isn’t too worried about us.”

Taken aback by the bustle of the city, Robin only caught wind of a fraction of their conversation. But she was curious as to why so many people stared at Chrom and his sister, some whispering ‘prince’ and ‘princess’ to each other with glee—others with disdain, even going so far as to spit to the side while muttering curses under their breath. But the children in the streets gazed upon Chrom and Frederick with awe in their eyes—young, hopeful youth with fake swords in their hands wishing that one day they could look as brave as the ‘mercenaries’ before them. 

“Hey, where are we headed again?” Robin asked curiously, drawing her attention away from the crowd towards Chrom, 

“Oh, uhm, to the castle…” Chrom trailed off for a moment, suddenly realizing that he neglected to tell her a very vital piece of information, “…Which is…our home.”

“The home is your castle?” Robin repeated, “I-I didn’t realize you were of noble blood. I thought Frederick was overly polite-”

“It appears you forgot to mention that, Milord.” Frederick muttered as he looked over his shoulder towards Robin, “I advise you not cry out to the heavens, but you have been in the company of the prince and princess of Ylisse for the last two days, Robin.”

Silence had befallen the tactician, wide eyes looking towards Chrom upon realizing that she had so carelessly and nonchalantly conversed with a royal—a prince, to be exact. She even called him by name, with no honorific to accompany it…

“P-prince Chrom!?” she coughed, “Gods, err, forgive me! I didn’t realize-”

“Peace, please.” Chrom shot back, “There’s a reason why I didn’t tell you. Not that I forgot—Ok, I might have forgotten. But even so, I don’t exactly parade my station around so frivolously-” 

“Why though?” she interrupted, “You’re a _prince_.”

“It’s a rather long story… but, we’ll discuss that later. For now, we have someone to introduce you to…”


	4. Emmeryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom introduces Robin to his sister, Emmeryn, while Lissa introduces her to the Shepherds.

Sunlight rained down through the halls of castle Ylisstol, illuminating the golden trim along the sea-green banners baring what assumed to be the family crest in all its royal glory.  The rug beneath her dirt-caked boots ran red with the same trim—she felt unworthy to walk along it beside Prince Chrom and his sister, Princess Lissa.  But the formalities were just within Robin’s conscious, as both explicitly _begged_ for her not to refer to them by their respective birthrights. 

Before them was a throne. The woman seated upon it stood up rather quickly; the guard next to her instantly gripping her lance at the sight of the tactician.  Again, Robin felt unwelcomed—a stranger in a foreign land, judged by her appearance alone.  Her pace no longer synched along with Chrom and the others, and she found herself slightly behind the group.  

“Robin?” Chrom whispered, “C’mon, it’s alright.” 

“But-” 

“Chrom, Lissa!” 

Her voice…it was so soft, nearly angelic if that.  Her facial expression was warm and inviting.  And the crown above her head glowed with a radiance that only matched that of her smile.  The Exalt had approached them, hands cupped before her, as if she were hesitant to throw herself upon Chrom and his sister.  But her eyes shimmered with delight, and the knight next to her relaxed her grip on her lance. 

“Emm! It’s so good to see you again!” Lissa exclaimed, “I hope we didn’t worry you too much.” 

A soft chuckle followed, “I knew you two would be safe under Frederick’s care.  How fared you all?” 

“Well, we won’t have problems with bandits for a while.  But I think we need to keep an eye on our borders.” Chrom explained, “It looks like they crossed over from Plegia.” 

“Forgive me, milord. It appears that border knights failed to intercept them. I hope they didn’t cause you too much trouble.” The knight beside ‘Emm’ said.  

“I would check and see if their post is still standing,” Frederick added, “Your Pegasus Knights are skilled, Phila. But I fear of the Plegians getting more and more aggressive, as well as…creative with their exploits.” 

“Understood.” Phila said, though rather exasperated, “I should go see to it myself this time.” 

“No. Your duty lies with protecting Emmeryn.” Chrom added, “We did fine on our own, so I think sending a small envoy would be enough to take your place.”

 

Emmeryn.  A beautiful name, Robin thought. She pondered what relation this woman must have had with Chrom and Lissa, but given that they were a prince and princess respectively, Emmeryn must have been their sister.  She looked too young to have children that old. 

But that’s what threw Robin off—she was young.  When one thinks of an Exalt, one would expect someone older and wiser.  Nay, Emmeryn looked not a day older than twenty-six at the most. However, she did appear wise, and her calm demeanor meant that her youthful outlook on life was long gone.  Though, it was strange how she looked nothing like Chrom.  Her golden curls matched her sister, Lissa’s, as well as her hazel eyes.  The only telling feature she had that linked her and Chrom by blood was the brand upon her forehead that matched her brother’s.

 

“That brings up another question,” Emmeryn began, “I see that you’ve brought along a friend, Chrom.  Might you introduce me to her?” 

Suddenly, all eyes were on Robin.  Still unsure of how to speak to the Exalt as a ‘commoner’, Robin took a knee, 

“My name is Robin, milady.” She wheezed. 

“H-hey, it’s alright.” Chrom chuckled as he placed a hand on her arm, “Emm’s not like other rulers. You don’t need to get on the floor for her.” 

“I understand the intimidation.” Emmeryn said with a reassuring smile, “But, please, I insist that there’s no need to kneel for me.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robin.” 

“Robin aided us against the brigands. I’ve decided to enlist her into the Shepherds as my Tactician.” Chrom explained. 

“It seems that Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin. You have put your life on the line to save our people, and you have my thanks personally.  I’m glad to know that you’ve joined Chrom’s cause to keep Ylisse safe. I know you’ll do our people well.” 

“It’s an honor, milady.” Robin said firmly. 

“I must speak,” Frederick interrupted, “I have my doubts, Your Grace.  Robin claims to have amnesia, but that’s all it is—a claim. We’re not sure where she comes from.  For all we know, she could be a Plegian spy-” 

“Frederick!” Chrom snapped. 

“Milord-” 

“You allowed her into our home, Chrom.  You trust her, do you not?” 

“I do,” Chrom replied, “Robin fought along my side, and even protected Lissa when I could not.  She put her life on the line for our people, and that’s good enough for me.” 

“Then I shall put my faith in her as well.”  Emmeryn stated. Robin’s eyes went wide, 

“Milady-” 

Emmeryn simply replied with a smile once more, almost amused by how flustered the tactician became.  “We are about to hold council, Chrom. Perhaps you could join us?” 

“I will. We’ve much to discuss on our findings.” 

Lissa finally chimed in, grabbing Robin by the arm and dragging her away, “Welp! That’s our cue! We don’t need to get involved in that boring court-council-whatever stuff. I wanna show you something! C’mon!”

* * *

 

The Shepherd’s barracks were…something.  Dusty, messy, weapons lying about (some of them even broken), and a few tall stacks of books littered on what appeared to be the main meeting table.  A map of Ylisse was trapped underneath the rubbish—and was that a cockroach that scurried across the floor!? Perhaps they were shorthanded on maids… 

“Welcome to the Shepherd’s garrison!” Lissa sang, almost delighted to show Robin the filth, “Make yourself at home. Normally we just meet up here, not a lot of us actually live here just so ya know.” 

“I-I mean no disrespect…but….” 

“Yeah, it could use a bit of cleaning.” Lissa chuckled, “But we’re so busy training that we don’t really get a chance.  Maybe you can help us clean it up?” 

“I would rather,” Robin muttered, “I’m sure we could be a bit more organized and revitalized if we keep our living quarters the same-” 

“Lissa!” a voice called out, “My precious treasure! Don’t startle me like that again!” 

She was pompous, clattering into the main room with her heeled boots and parasol dragging along the floor with her bouncing curls.  She was joined by two others, a woman in rose armor and…a shirtless man. That must have been Vaike, he fit the description of what Chrom told her to a T.  

“I’m fine, Maribelle! We took a little longer because of the attack near the border. But look! We not only survived, but we made a new friend! This is Robin, everyone.” 

“Oh…” Maribelle took one glance at Robin before going back to Lissa, immediately fretting over the last two days without her.  The girl in rose armor stood a little off to the side, folding her hands together with hope, 

“If you’re here, th-that means Captain Chrom’s back, right?” the woman asked sheepishly, 

“Yeah, he’s in a meeting right now.” Lissa explained, 

“Will he come by here? Soon? I hope?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” 

“Sumia has been fretting over him nonstop as usual,” Maribelle explained, winking in her direction, “I assured her that you two would return just fine, but she didn’t believe me.” 

“You were the one losing your shit over Lissa,” Vaike interrupted, “both of ya. Seriously. Chrom might not be as strong as Teach, but I got faith that he can fight a couple of brigands just fine.” 

“Uhm,” Robin couldn’t help but to interrupt, afraid that she had been forgotten once more, “hi.” 

“Oh, yeah, hey.” Vaike grinned in her direction, “It was ‘Robin’, right? Nice ta meet ya. What do you do? You fight? You look kinda like an egghead.” 

“She’s a tactician!” Lissa chimed in, “Chrom and I found her while we were out. She’s _really_ smart and she’s got a bunch of tricks up her sleeves. Definitely more is going on in her head than yours, Vaike.” 

“Yeah, well, can she do _this?_ ”

 

The man proceeded to belch, startling Sumia and causing Robin to feel sick to her stomach.  

 

“Disgusting.” Maribelle hissed, “She might be lowborn, but no woman wants to hear, or smell, such filth, Vaike.” 

“Please. I’m sure you’ve burped or tooted yourself in the last half-a-day.”  

Maribelle scoffed once more, nose in the air as usual.  

“Nice to meet you, Robin,” Sumia said, “I’m sure that if Captain Chrom trusts you, we can all trust you. He’s really kind, you know? A great leader. Super strong…” 

“There she goes again.” Vaike snickered, “If there’s anyone here whose a fan of Chrom, it’s Sumia.” 

“He’s our captain!” if one looked closely and past her flushed features, one could see the sweat beading upon the side of her temple, “And our prince! He deserves the praise, yes?” 

“Yeah, well I’m super strong, too. Where’s my praise?” He turned to her, teeth bared in what appeared to be irritation, “I can lay Chrom flat on the floor if you gave me the chance. Hell, I have!” 

“Let’s get out of here, Maribelle,” Lissa whined, “They’re going at it again.” 

“Of course, darling. We’ve much to catch up on, anyway.  Tata, Robin. Try not to encourage such baseborn buffoonery from Vaike, alright?”   

“I’ll try…not to?” Robin didn’t even realize that she had encouraged him to begin with.  But then it hit her that Maribelle might have assumed Robin was cut from the same cloth as Vaike, to which Robin heavily sighed and itched the back of her neck.  Sumia and Vaike went on, both seemingly dismissive of her presence as they went on about Chrom.  

“How could you even beat the captain in a spar if you can’t even remember your weapon half the time?” Sumia appeared visibly irritated as if this weren’t the first time she made this point to him. 

“You see, ‘don’t need it. Check it out. The Vaike has muscles twice his size.”  He proceeded to flex, and Sumia covered her face in embarrassment, “See? Even _you_ can’t handle what Teach is bringin’ to the table.” 

“I don’t understand why you feel the need to fight our captain! We’re allies. We should be working _with_ him, not against him.” Sumia said, still covering her facial features, 

“You just don’t understand how guys work.” He scoffed, “Chrom and me fight because that’s how we show our respect for each other. You ladies just like to bake him pies and fawn over him, right?”

 Sumia shrank back further, now doubled over in embarrassment.  Vaike looked to Robin, gesturing over towards Sumia,

 “What do you think?” 

“What do you mean?” Robin asked curiously, 

“Do you hear her going on about ‘Chrom’ this and ‘Chrom’ that? It’s like she has a crush on him or somethin’. But, she’s always been like this, I guess.” 

“I-” Robin’s gaze flashed between Vaike and Sumia, “I don’t think I have a place in this argument, I’m afraid. I barely even know you two, or even Chrom for that matter.” 

“This is embarrassing,” Sumia whimpered, “I didn’t want my first impression to be like this. Not at all.” 

“It’s fine.” Robin assured her, “Everyone here has known each other for quite some time, yes? This is normal, I assume. I’ll have to adjust accordingly, that’s all.” 

“Wow. You really do sound like an egghead. You and Miriel might get along juuuust fine.” 

“Though, I guess I have the right to at least defend myself.” Robin added, her glare falling upon Vaike, to which he responded with a small step back.  

“Thank you.” Sumia chimed in, “I’m sure we’ll all get along great. Captain Chrom hand-picked all of the Shepherds, so he does know us all pretty well.  I trust in his reason to bring you along.” 

“I appreciate the warm welcome, really.” Robin said with a smile, “The Shepherds are quite a colorful cast of characters, I’ll admit.  And you mentioned there’s more?  I’m excited to meet them.”

 

Chrom’s voice carried from behind, and Robin noticed Sumia’s eyes light up with excitement when he spoke, “And you will in due time, Robin.” 

 

“Captain!” she exclaimed, “It’s wonderful to see you! Oh, I’m so glad you’re-”  

But before she could complete her thought, mid-step as she approached the lord, Sumia fell face-first into the stone flooring with a loud thud.  Both Chrom and Robin lurched forward to help her, while Vaike snorted in response, shaking his head.  

“Sumia, are you ok?” Chrom asked, 

“Y-yes, captain! I-I just…fell again.” 

“Those boots?” 

“Sure.” Sumia got to her own feet by herself, dusting off her skirt, “A-as I was saying, it’s good to see you! I’m glad you made it here safely.” 

“I wouldn’t have done so without Frederick, as usual.”

 

Robin noticed Sumia’s back straighten at this statement,

 

“Frederick is a good man, yes!” she nearly sang, “I’m glad he was there for you, and Lissa as well.” 

“I’ll let him know.” Chrom chuckled, “Or, you can tomorrow.  We have to march to Regna Ferox in the morning.” 

“Regna Ferox?” Robin asked, 

“It’s a warrior nation to our North.  I’ll explain the details later; we need to request a favor of them. Will you be joining us, Robin?” 

“It’s my duty.” She said firmly.

“Wonderful. In the meantime, Emmeryn actually wanted to ask if you wanted to join us for supper tonight…”  For some reason, Chrom seemed a little hesitant to tell her this, “…I-I mean, I would, too. And Lissa. All three of us. Yeah. You can even have a bath before then, since I know it’s been awhile.” 

Robin cocked her brow in response. 

“I mean-” he coughed, “I mean. I mean- you know? I don’t…it was just an offer she wanted me to mention to you! Not that Emmeryn sees you as filthy. Or any of us for that matter, I-” 

“I’ll join you for supper, yes.” Robin replied with a soft chuckle, “And a bath would be nice, too. Thank you, Chrom.” 


	5. The Prince and the Pauper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin joins Chrom, Lissa, Emmeryn, and Frederick for dinner, but not before she has a small chat with the prince.

The tactician lay back in the tub, head pressed against the stone wall to cool her temple while the rest of her soaked in what simply felt like a rejuvenating serum—even if it was just hot water with a few oils dashed in it.  But Robin felt as if this was the first bath she had ever taken, though she had hoped it wasn’t.  Surely wherever she came from had some sort of way to bathe, as the entire process didn’t feel that foreign to her.  She could have fallen asleep with how relaxed she was; limbs sprawled out and hair floating so carelessly along the surface of the water.  In fact, Robin ended up nodding off if just for a moment before one of the servants poked her head into the bathing area, startling the tactician.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Lady Robin,” the maid began, “you’ve been in here quite awhile now.  The Exalt, prince, and princess have been waiting for you…”

“Oh, Gods,” Robin muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how long I’d been in here.”

“Tis fine, my lady.”

“I can’t say I’m used to such honorifics,” Robin added, “oh, uhm…my clothes. You took them earlier, yes?”

“We did, yes. Unfortunately, your cloak is still in need of drying, but the rest of your ensemble is freshly laundered for you.”

“You-” Robin sank deeper into the tub, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“…We did.” The maid added quickly before closing the door.  Was she _that_ dirty? All Robin could feel for herself was embarrassment—how bad did she look?  And, Gods, did she _smell_?  Come to think of it, she did have quite a bit of dirt under her nails beforehand…

But that was in the past, and all the while she dressed herself she wondered why she carried so much concern for how others thought of her.  Actually, not quite the others, but more how Chrom thought of her.  Passed out in a field with no memory, caked in dirt with bugs in her hair…what did he see in her?  

She shook her head as she tightened her belt along her hips—no, Chrom simply took her in out of charity.  It was her own tactics that won her the spot in his army, otherwise it sounded like they were set on leaving her behind.  From then on, Robin knew that she had a duty to uphold, along with the need to prove herself to the leader of the Shepherds.  The Prince of Ylisse.  

But she had to keep focused, Robin wasn’t going to let a little dinner party psyche her out.  She would be polite and cordial, making the best attempt to entertain the Exalt not with her awkwardness, but her tactical prowess.  Yes, that would be the plan.  Feeling confident in her abilities, Robin pulled open the door to only be greeted by the man she…felt entirely awkward around, 

“There you are,” Chrom said with what appeared to be relief, “I was wondering how long you were going to be in there.”

“How…long have you been standing here?”

“Huh?” and thus, the look of relief turned into a wide-eyed and dumbfounded stare,  “Wait- No! No, I haven’t been here long! I just passed by, actually. Looking for you, still…”

She noticed his eyes look her up and down, to which her hands instantly attached themselves to her hips,

“Can I help you?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not really polite to stare…”

“I- I wasn’t staring! I’m sorry. Gods. Forgive me, Robin.”

“I’ll let this one slide.  Anyway, I hope this attire suffices. I…don’t exactly have anything extravagant to wear to a royal dinner.”

“Robin, you make it seem as if Lissa, Emm, and I are nitpicky about appearance.” Chrom said with a slight grimace, “It’s casual, I assure you. We don’t exactly ‘dress up’ unless we have special guests coming.”

“I guess I’m not special then?”

It was a joke—an ill-placed joke nonetheless as Chrom immediately straightened again,

“No!” he huffed, “No, don’t get me wrong, Robin. You’re very special to me—to us. To us. Yeah. We don’t want to put any pressure on you, that’s all. We see you more as a friend than some noble we have to impress, you know?”

“I understand. Forgive me, Chrom, that wasn’t exactly fair of me to say. You’ve all been so kind to me already, I should really be more grateful.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary, Robin.”

“But there’s something I can do, yes? Aside from assisting you with the Shepherds?”

“Robin, there’s not a lot I can really tell you now other than your kindness towards Emm alone is good enough.”

“I don’t understand, but I’ll trust you on that one, Chrom.”

His gaze averted from hers, his eyes appearing somber in a way.  Yet Robin chose not to press the issue—whatever it might have been, she could discern that, at the very least, not many were kind to his older sister.  What reasoning that might have been would be revealed at a later time, but at that moment she simply gave him a nod of understanding.

“Anyway,” he started once more, “Emm and Lissa are waiting for us. Don’t feel too pressured or anything to impress them, Robin. You’ll find that my sisters are extremely lax, especially Emm.  She might look intimidating, but she warms to my friends easily, I assure you.”

He saw her as a friend.

“That’s great,” Robin replied, relaxing her shoulders, “I can’t wait to speak with your sisters more. They seem rather lovely.”

“Don’t say that to Lissa,” Chrom added with a chuckle, “you might call Emm ‘lovely’, but Lissa might prefer something less feminine.”

Robin bit her lip slightly, almost hesitant to reply to him, “I…think you might misunderstand Lissa’s wishes…”

Expecting a lash out, she stepped off to the side when Chrom turned to her,

“Oh?” he asked calmly, “I…I’m sorry I don’t quite understand.”

“Well,” again, she hesitated, “I mean, I should preface this with the fact that I’ve only known Lissa for a short while, but…”

“Go on,” he urged her, still rather calmly, “please.”

“Forgive me for overstepping my bounds, but I think Lissa seems fine with being feminine. I think she just wishes you’d not call her ‘delicate’.  You can be feminine and have strength, you know?”

“What-” his face grew rather red, but not out of rage. Nay, it was embarrassment, “Gods, no, I didn’t mean it like that with her at all.  I only call her delicate because…well, I mean, she’s a cleric and….Gods, no, how could I have been so foolish?”

“Perhaps you could do more to praise her? Perhaps focus more on her talents, especially when introducing her to strangers.”

“I’m so sorry I came off that way,” he sighed, “and I…owe Lissa an apology as well. She doesn’t need to feel that way.”

This caused Robin to smile, and quickly did she take her spot back next to him as they walked, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, Chrom.”

* * *

 

“This is SO much better than bear meat!” Lissa cried out before shoveling the slices of bird into her mouth with eagerness and delight. 

“Lady Lissa, I implore you to chew first!” Frederick said, “You’ll choke! Milord! Not you, too-”

Even Chrom found himself ripping into one of the drumsticks as if he hadn’t eaten in days.  Neither of the siblings seemed to pay mind to the thoughts of their guests, let alone the near-maternal warnings coming from their knight.  And Robin watched in awe, if not slight disgust.  Frederick, on the other hand, now void of an appetite, simply rested his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands.

“Now, now, Frederick,” Emmeryn chimed in, “didn’t you teach them not to rest their elbows on the table?”

Immediately his elbows left at her command, though he simply rested one upon the arm of his chair and continued to massage his temple in disbelief. It was magical how Emmeryn’s soft words could move the knight so easily.

“So, Robin,” the Exalt began, “tell me a little bit about yourself, would you?”

“Oh, uhm,” she shifted awkwardly in her seat, “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. I’ve no stories or even an idea of my origin.”

“Well, then perhaps you’ll tell me about your interests and the like, won’t you?  We don’t need to dwell on the past.”

“Well, I guess you could say that I have a knack for tactics and magic.  I’m quite a fan of reading, as well.  I went through some of my belongings and found a couple of books to skim through to pass the time.”

“That’s wonderful,” Emmeryn said with her usual smile, “we have quite the library here in Ylisstol, actually. Perhaps that could be of use to you during your stay here?”

“The library? Oh, well, if I have the permission, I’d be honored.” Robin perked up, “Do you do a lot of reading yourself?”

“When I have the time, yes.” She replied, “Though more recently it’s been rather difficult to find time to indulge. But when I do have a moment, I prefer a good mystery.”

“Mystery, huh?  I feel like I pinned you as more of the historical fiction type.”

“Interesting, I felt the same way about you.”

“I don’t read much, but I like stories about humans that become animals.” Lissa added,

“Lady Lissa, please, _not with your mouth full_.” Frederick muttered,

“Like a body-swap?” Robin asked,

“Yeah something like that.” Lissa replied,

“She’s always enjoyed books with animals in them, ever since she was little,” Emmeryn went on to explain, “Chrom, on the other hand, enjoyed books with heroes in them. Though I can’t say that he did a lot of reading on his own when we were little.”

“Hm?” he looked up from his plate, obviously confused with the topic at hand, “What?”

“Do you read in your free time?” Robin asked curiously, to which Chrom almost shamefully looked back to his plate,

“I…have little free time.” He muttered, “I mean, it’s not that I _can’t_ read, I can read well. It’s just that I have other things to do, you know?”

“Like beating up training dummies until you’re passed out on the ground from exhaustion?” Lissa jeered,

Emmeryn leaned towards her sister with a hand gently placed on the table, “Lissa, you know Chrom does his best to keep himself in capable shape, we can’t fault him for that.”

“Just as a mage must keep their mind sharp, a warrior must keep their body in shape, yes?” Robin added,

“Y-yes.” Chrom huffed, “It takes a lot to have the strength to wield Falchion.”

“It’s an impressive blade, I’ll admit.”

“Let’s not speak of this at the table,” Emmeryn added before folding her hands together, “Though I suppose on a similar topic, I’m curious as to when you’ll be departing for Regna Ferox, Chrom.”

“Tomorrow morning is the plan, though realistically it won’t be until the early afternoon. I…didn’t realize how underprepared we were.”

“Milord declined to check in with our armory,” Frederick added, “we cannot properly defend ourselves with broken spears and dulled blades.  I’ve made it a point to go to the smithy with Chrom as they kindle the forge for the day.  We’ve much to replace.”

Once again, Robin noticed Chrom lock his jaw with a grimace, “…You’re telling me that I have to wake up before the sun rises?”

“It is a leader’s duty, Milord.” Frederick replied with a smile, “Get plenty of rest tonight after supper. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“I have faith they will be safe in your hands, Frederick,” Emmeryn added, “please make sure of this.” She then looked to Robin, her smile then faded to a thin line as her gaze fell upon the young tactician, “I ask the same of you as well, Robin.  Please keep Chrom and Lissa safe.”

Such a burden to be placed on a stranger, especially one whom of which lacked the steel to truly defend her siblings.  But what she lacked in steel she made up with her brilliance—while Frederick could defend, Robin could easily help them avoid danger altogether.  The trip ahead would be her first true test as a tactician…

…and Robin was terrified.

 


	6. Coveted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shepherds begin their march to Regna Ferox, but not before Robin is introduced to a few other members of Chrom's Shepherds. Robin begins to notice some strange feelings she has in regards to Chrom, which are...quickly dashed by his lack of lordliness.

The early morning bells rang from the Shepherds’ barracks, waking those who chose to stay there while signaling for those who had arrived that the first hour of dawn had begun—it was time to feed horses, clean armor, and prepare for their march.  But before all of that, breakfast was routinely served—not quite a meager meal, but certainly not what the castle offered Robin the night before.  Regardless, the dining hall was surprisingly bustling and filled with more than just the Shepherds themselves.  Pegasus Knights, Royal guards, even castle-class mages all seemed to join together for what appeared to be a simple meal of hot oats, eggs, and some form of indiscernible meat (it was too charred for Robin to tell at a glance).  Everyone appeared to be paired off in their own groups—the men who appeared to guard the castle took to one table, the large group of women in tight dresses (which must have been the Pegasus Knights?) took to another, and everyone else seemed scattered, causing quite a bit of difficulty on Robin’s part when she tried to find a familiar face.  Chrom was off with Frederick, and assumedly Maribelle had taken Lissa off to a ‘less boisterous’ area to eat.  Thus, Robin spent a few good minutes searching for someone—anyone—to allow her a seat near them. 

Yet a far off and isolated corner would work just fine for her, which she gladly took up all on her own.  While the corner did not offer itself as a barrier from the noise, she could at least place a couple of books on the table without crowding anyone’s dining experience.  And so the tactician took a sip of her coffee, opened one of her strategy books, and began her review over breakfast.  Slowly the information came back to her; while the world itself was not familiar, her knowledge became second-nature, and the words on the page felt repetitive as if she had read that chapter twenty times beforehand.  Yet she was consumed in her studies within minutes, occasionally taking a bite of her oats in quite the lazy manner—missing her mouth occasionally.

“It appears that I am not the only one who seeks solitude during meal hours for scholarship.” Said a woman, clad in dark colors with a voice that lacked any sort of emotion past exhaustion.  This startled Robin, causing her to drop her spoon right back into the bowl and sending bit of slop all across the table.  The woman adjusted her glasses whilst looking down at the tactician, “Fascinating.  Your pupils appear dilated and your palms shaking after I merely spoke to you. Perhaps this is a sort of response akin to the feeling of apprehension?  Mind if I take your pulse?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Robin coughed, “You startled me, that’s what you did.  I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to come over here, that’s all.”

“I see.” She said flatly, “This position is ideal for my morning regimen, and you are invading it.  However, your visage is unfamiliar to me.  Would you be so thoughtful as to indulge me?”

Robin slowly blinked trying to comprehend the woman’s speech, “My name is Robin, I’ve recently been enlisted into the Shepherds by Chrom—erm… ‘Prince’ Chrom himself as his tactician.”

“A tactician? I wasn’t cognizant that such a station was applicable to our battalion. Furthermore, I always imagined that Lieutenant Frederick served Chrom in such a fashion. Interesting.” The woman sat down across from Robin, placing her stack of books and a singular apple next to her. She folded her long, thin fingers together with a rather sharp look in her eyes, “I am Miriel. Pleasure.”

“The…pleasure is all mine.” Robin replied, “I take it you’re a mage?”

“Affirmative.”

And with that, Miriel pulled a book from her stack and began to read as if Robin weren’t sitting right there.  Such a colorful cast already.  Speaking of which, Robin noticed three others approach the table with their plates in hand,

“Good morning, Robin!” Sumia said with glee, “May we join you for breakfast? I noticed you were sitting here all alone.”

“S-sure.” Robin wheezed while shoving her books to the side to make room, “I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome here, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense!” Sumia shot back, “You’re a Shepherd now. We’re sort of like a big happy family, ya know?”

“I appreciate that.”

“I see ya met Miriel here,” Vaike chimed in, “if there’s anyone in this group who might have more brains than you, it’s her.”

“That’s…quite the statement.” Robin muttered,

“Yeah, but I’m sure you won’t walk into traffic while readin’ like she does.” Vaike proceeded to gently nudge Miriel with his elbow, who did not respond in the slightest, “See? Once she’s in one of her books she won’t stop.  Nothin’ breaks her from ‘em.”

A stray hand suddenly reached for Miriel’s lone apple, to which her hand immediately swatted it away, yet her eyes did not move from the page.  That hand belonged to the quiet knight off to the side, who was only quiet due to the fact that his mouth was full of food,

“Damn.” Vaike huffed, “Maybe she _is_ aware of her surroundings.”

The knight swallowed hard as he rubbed the back of his hand, “H-hey it was worth a shot.  We didn’t get offered apples in the line.  I kinda want one. It looks nice.”

“I don’t think we met yesterday,” Robin said while peering over Miriel’s stack of books, “I’m Robin.”

“Stahl.” The viridian knight replied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robin! I heard that Chrom hired a tactician, but I didn’t imagine it’d be someone like you.  And I mean that in a good way, mind you.  Some tacticians don’t even bother to go on the battlefield, but Lissa told me that you fought alongside our captain the entire time. That’s amazing!”

“Why, thank you, Stahl,” Robin replied with a soft chuckle, “I don’t see the benefit of _not_ being on the battlefield.  How are you supposed to intimately know your army’s strengths and weaknesses if you can’t even see them first-hand? I feel that’s something I admire with Captain Chrom, for instance.  He’s a prince, yet he fights alongside everyone as if he were on the same level.  I’ve read of only a few lords who’ve had such courage, and I find that to be commendable-”

“Yes, he’s quite the admirable man indeed.”

Another new voice came from the other side of the stack, to which Robin had to lean over once more to get a glimpse of the woman who sat next to Sumia; back straight, hands properly folded on the table, and overall the reflection of which one would deem as ‘perfect’. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the woman began, “I couldn’t help but to overhear that we were talking about Chrom-er, _Captain_ Chrom.”

“We were just talking about his bravery and heroism,” Sumia beamed towards the girl, “you know, what makes Captain Chrom the way he is.”

“Indeed,” the girl said with a warm smile, her cheeks flushed for some reason, “Captain Chrom is a fine man.  Truly gallant in a way... It’s a shame that I can’t join you on today’s march, but Phila has requested that I join her in refortifying the western boarder today.”

“Woah, that’s amazing!” Sumia gasped, “I can’t believe you’re already going on flights with Commander Phila!  I hope I can be in the Knights one day.  You’re so lucky, Cordelia.”

“That time will come, Sumia. For now, you just need to work on improving yourself and, ehm, keeping yourself off of the ground, I should say.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed, “I’m just in the way right now. Captain Chrom even said it might be best if I stay behind today.”

“I would trust in his judgment, Sumia.” Cordelia added, “Captain Chrom is compassionate, after all.  He just wants to keep you safe.”

“I know that,” Sumia sighed, “still, I feel like I won’t be getting any experience or merit towards my entry into the Pegasus Knights if I just stay behind.”

“The Knights are prestigious, yes.” Cordelia added, almost hesitantly, “But, I’ll admit, I’m rather jealous that you’re able to work so closely with Captain Chrom.  Being able to see him every day, training with him…” It almost seemed as if the air was leaving Cordelia’s lungs as she spoke, “It must be nice to work with such a fantastic leader.”

Robin sank back in her seat for a moment to take in the situation.  She noticed Miriel’s eyes flash to her before going back to her book, and even Stahl looked off to the side as if he were bored with the conversation.  Vaike, on the other hand, dropped his fork and looked directly at Cordelia,

“Man, you sure are showering the man with compliments when he ain’t even here.”

“Do I sense some jealousy?” Cordelia asked calmly,

“Nah. Just pointing out what I see. Carry on.”

“Sumia, would you like to take this conversation elsewhere?” Cordelia asked her fellow Pegasus Knight, “We’ve got a bit of time before I have to go.”

Sumia gave her a nod, both women retrieving themselves from their seats and heading off towards another table.  Meanwhile Robin couldn’t shake the odd feeling she had—she couldn’t quite pin _what_ she was feeling, but that instance alone seemed to kill her mood.

“ _Chrom, Chrom, Chrom_ ,” Vaike muttered, “Everyone here’s kissing his boots all the time.”

“Do…they often just talk about Chrom?” Robin asked curiously, “I mean, yeah, he’s a great guy but…”

“Cordelia’s been crushin’ on that guy since we were kids,” Vaike went on to explain, “but, he’s never given her the time of day.  And even when they do speak, she just curls up in a ball and he’s just off in his own head.  Sumia? Yeah, I’ve gotten the same vibes from her, too. When she came into the Shepherds under Phila’s suggestion she’s been at Chrom’s heels like a lost puppy…sometimes literally. Like, you know, when she trips.”

“I hypothesize that he might give off some sort of pheromone.” Miriel muttered, “Though in most species it’s to acquire a sexual partner for mating-”

“I,” Robin stood up from the table, “don’t…really want to discuss this right now.”

“I was only going to further postulate that perhaps he is simply oblivious if not disinterested altogether.”

“Don’t tell them that,” Stahl whined, “also…I don’t think Chrom has this pheromone thing or whatever. I think Sumia and Cordelia just both happen to _really_ like him, and since they’re always together it’s sorta…amplified—H-Hey, Robin, where are you going?”

“I realized I still need to pack up my things in my room,” she yelped, “I’ll just meet everyone in the barracks as planned! Carry on with your breakfast.”

And in an instant, the tactician swooped away even leaving her books and her dishes behind—a tactical retreat leaving a few casualties.  Miriel went ahead and gathered up Robin’s books to return to her later, while Vaike watched her walk away with a cocked brow,

“Gee, what’s gotten into her? She got pretty huffy all of a sudden.”

“Perhaps she feels unwell.” Miriel said,

“Uhm, perhaps it was everyone talking about her new boss and bringing up pheromones and sex and stuff?” Stahl chimed in, “Yeah, I think that would embarrass anyone, you know?”

“Fascinating.” Miriel took another book from her stack and began to jot down notes, “I will research further into this.  Our tactician appears to be quite the anomaly.”

“Geeze.”

 

* * *

 

She had never ridden a horse before, at least she felt like she had never ridden a horse before.  But Chrom insisted that she not take the journey on foot like the others in the army, for Robin’s exhaustion could have inhibited her tactical abilities on the battlefield.  But, by the Gods did that horse not want anything to do with her as she tried to mount it.  Chrom seemed to have a similar difficulty with his mount, but at the very least the horse _knew_ who he was.  Robin had to quickly make friends with her own, which proved to be a challenge.  Nevertheless, the horse eventually listened to her after consuming a few ‘bribe’ apples.  Robin vowed to get to know it better along the way, but once they left Ylisstol and headed north, she found herself often conversing with Chrom as he chose to keep his steed by her side. 

“So,” she began, “give me the details again as to what we’re heading to Ferox for.”

“Our military isn’t exactly in the best shape, I’m not proud to admit. Frederick, Emmeryn, and myself agreed during council last night that we would need to request additional aid from our northern neighbors against the Plegian threat to the west.  That town we saved the other day has apparently had aggressive Plegians at their doorstep almost consistently.”

“What qualms does Plegia have with Ylisse?”

“It’s…a rather long story, Robin,” Chrom sighed, “but for simplicity’s sake, Plegia and Ylisse have been at odds with each other since before Emm became Exalt.  Emm has done her best to keep things peaceful between us and their king, yet Plegian-born ruffians keep crossing the border and torching our towns.  We can’t keep idle while they do this, you know?  But we also don’t have enough manpower…”

“I understand,” Robin gave him a nod, “I noticed that in the mess hall this morning. All you really have to your army are the Pegasus Knights, right?”

“Yeah, and even so there aren’t that many.  Our recent military…no longer really exists. All of our generals were killed in the last war. It was to the point that even villagers were being recruited with nothing but pitchforks in their hands…”

“…I assume this wasn’t Emmeryn’s doing.”

“Of course not!” Chrom hissed, though his horse was displeased with the sudden outburst which sent Chrom trotting off in a different direction.  “Woah!”

Robin watched as he tried to get a handle on his mount, though her gaze fell as she pondered Chrom’s reaction.  He was hiding something, something about Ylisse that he might not have been too proud of.  But he seemed too young to fight a war himself, so whoever led the army before him obviously did something shameful.  And judging by how he eluded to Emmeryn being rather new to the throne, the previous Exalt before her must have been the one at fault.  Again, Robin chose not to press the issue for it wasn’t necessarily her business at that moment.

“S-so,” he began as he got his horse back on track, “how did you like Ylisstol?”

“Hm?” she was caught off guard by such a question, “Oh, it was beautiful, Chrom. Your home was very warm and welcoming, I’ll admit.  Even the featherbed was simply divine to sleep on. It’s nice to get a moment to get some beauty rest.”

 

_Silence_.  She noticed him blink a few times out of the corner of her eye.  Slowly, Robin turned her head to him, to which Chrom had a noticeable redness to his cheeks.  Yet, he appeared confused all the same. “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“No,” he began, “no, not at all. I just…I didn’t see you to be the type.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you know…you say ‘beauty sleep’ as if you- uh…”

“…”

“I just didn’t seen you as a lady-”

“Pardon!?” 

Even Robin’s horse whinnied at that comment,

“No! Robin! Please, what I meant to say was that you just…you seem to be more concerned with strategy, and battle tactics, and fighting, not so much keeping up your appearance like a lady would.”

“Goodness,” she huffed, “and here I believed you at the very least had some semblance of nobility, Chrom.”  She heard Cordelia’s words echo in her mind—gallant, compassionate, everything that in that moment which Chrom was certainly _not_ , “I mean, I caught you staring at my figure last night, but I wasn’t assuming you were questioning my femininity. I stand corrected.”

“Good Gods, Robin, you have it all wrong! I _know_ you’re a woman! And- and I wasn’t staring at your figure! Y-you’re taking me as some sort of degenerate.”

“Well, you’re certainly not chivalrous,” she scoffed, “please, enlighten me on what a ‘lady’ is to you, then.”

She actually didn’t want him to indulge her, but he went off,

“You know? Prim and proper, perfumed and pretty- Oh. Oh, you look mad.”

She was outright scowling at him for that very last comment.

“Oh, no, I’m not mad, Chrom.” She hissed between barred teeth, “Please. Go. On.”

Yet he stared at her in sheer terror, eventually pulling on the reigns of his horse,

“Well!” he sang, “Look at that! I think I hear someone in the rear calling for me!”  he craned his neck back, “What was that? Risen!?”

“No!” Robin snapped, “We’re not done here!”

“Actually, sir, yes!” Frederick called from ahead, “there are Risen blocking the road, Milord! We must take up arms at once!”

“Well, look at that, Robin!” Chrom exclaimed, “Looks like it’s time to put that _brilliant tactical mind of yours_ to work, friend!”

 

But Chrom might have found himself in a very poor position during that battle, right next to his scathing tactician.


	7. A Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumia rejoins the Shepherds after the battle at Northroad. Robin and Chrom are still at odds with each other, but both uncover particular feelings and deal with them in their own ways. Chrom has a surprise.

“Hold still, Robin,” Lissa urged as she began to wrap the tactician’s forearm up in a bandage, “I did what I could to close the wound, but you might want to keep this on for a bit, just in case.”

“How could I be so foolish?” Robin hissed,

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were flanked…that’s the word, right? That axe came down really hard on you.”

“Yeah, ‘flanked’ is the word I would use, I suppose.” She winced once more as Lissa waived her staff over the wound.

“You should be fine before we get to Regna Ferox. Hopefully we won’t run in to anymore of those Risen.” Lissa sat back on her knees while pressing her staff to her chest—there was an aura of worry about her, to which Robin chuckled softly in return,

“We’ll be fine, Lissa.  I promise.”

“H-hey, question,” Lissa began, “I overheard you and my brother speaking before the fight.  Are you alright?”

“Hm?” she glanced up from her wound, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you both were yelling, actually. Really loudly. And during the fight you seemed _really_ aggressive towards him.  Like, I saw you yelling at him to go forward and then I saw that Risen come at your left…”

Robin clicked her tongue in disappointment for herself—truly an oversight on her part, if not a novice mistake.  Her frustration with Chrom’s words towards her caused her to receive that injury, and she knew it.  She had to keep a level head—what would happen next time?  Would she get a worse injury? Would someone else fall because she was too consumed with her own feelings?  Would Chrom fall, the man who seemed to trust her with his life?  She shook her head at the thought, lowering herself apologetically to the princess,

“It won’t happen again.” Robin muttered,

“You don’t need to bow!” Lissa coughed, “Don’t apologize to me, Robin. I’m just worried about you and Chrom.  You two are supposed to be working together, right?”

“You’re right, Lissa.”

“…But what he said was super jerk-ish of him,” Lissa grumbled as she got to her feet, “I think you’re fine just the way you are!”

“Is that so?” she asked cautiously,

“Yeah!” Lissa beamed, “I think you’re plenty girlish on your own! Your hair is nice, your skin looks soft, your—ehm…a-anyway, _I_ think you look like a girl! A pretty one, too.”

“L-Lissa,” Robin pulled her cloak towards herself, embarrassed with how Chrom’s sister so casually went on about her appearance, “you’re making me blush.”

“Look! Even how you blush is adorable!” she sang,

“Lissa!”

“Hey,” Chrom called out as he approached them in the clearing, “are you two doing alright over here? ‘Been looking for you for a while.  We’re about to march again—we should be able to hit the Feroxian border by tomorrow evening.”

“How much longer until we get to castle Ferox?” Lissa whined, “I’m sick of all this marching.”

“Given the cold, probably longer than we first discussed,” Chrom sighed, “that’s if we don’t run into anymore Risen while we’re on the road.”

Lissa fell back down to her knees with a loud huff—Robin continued to stay seated near the boulder, her eyes never once falling upon Chrom.  He, on the other hand, couldn’t help but to keep his eyes on her, specifically the wound on her arm,

“Robin,” he began, “I’m sorry that I didn’t see that Risen come after you. I was-”

“Doing as I advised you,” she muttered with her eyes still to the ground, “it’s fine, it was my own fault.”

She could see his shadow shift, and she realized he was starting to approach her.  Soon, out of the corner of her eye did she see his grey-gloved hand offer itself to her.  Her sights shifted to his face—again, he had that warm and inviting smile.

“Let me at least help you up,” he said, “I-”

It sounded like the beginnings of an apology, but the loud whinny of a horse startled the prince, princess, and tactician altogether.  They were approached by a giant white beast—no, it was a pegasus that towered over them with its bright, white feathered wings dotted with a red substance.  A closer look showed a rather wide cut on its side—perhaps this creature ran into one of the Risen along the road. 

“What’s a pegasus doing out here?” Chrom wondered, “They’re not really wild anymore I wouldn’t think.”

“Is it one of ours?” Lissa asked, “It’s got bridles on it.”

Chrom, foolishly, took a few steps closer to get a better look, to which the steed began to kick in his direction,

“Woah there, girl!” he wheezed, “Easy now, easy-”

But it bucked again, causing Chrom to fall back in sheer terror,

“He doesn’t remember that pegasi don’t like boys,” Lissa muttered,

“That explains why I didn’t see any men in the Knights.” Robin added.

“C’mon!” Chrom yelped, “Easy!”

“Captain!” Sumia called out, “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Hold on a second!”

Sumia revealed herself from behind a nearby rock, quickly approaching Chrom and the pegasus with an…oddly calm demeanor about her.  With her hands outstretched towards the beast, Sumia began to hum a soft tune as she took a spot right next to it.  Its ferocious gaze towards Chrom softened when Sumia placed a hand on it, and oh-so-gently she began to stroke down its neck until it ceased its pained cries. 

There was…a particular elegance to Sumia’s actions, and even the early afternoon sunbeams raining down on her illuminated her entire being with a certain radiance that one would deem to be ‘exquisite’.  Her gentle hums, her slim figure, her rosy cheeks, curled locks, feminine armor, and that sweet smile—the epitome of a noble lady.

“That’s incredible, Sumia!” Lissa said, “I mean, I knew you were a knight in training but I didn’t realize how easily you’re able to calm a rabid pegasus!”

“I-I agree with Lissa,” Chrom stuttered, “you’re remarkable, Sumia.”

“I agree,” Robin added, “but, Sumia, why are you _here_?”

“Oh…” Sumia looked down at her lilac boots for a moment, “I, uhm, I really wanted to come with the Shepherds to Regna Ferox. So, I flew about a mile behind the group, just in case, and…well…a Risen shot me down. But, I’m ok! Don’t worry about me. Really.”

“Sumia, you could have really gotten hurt!” Chrom coughed, “I mean, look at your mount!”

“She’ll be fine!” Sumia shot back, “I-I went to go get some herbs to help heal her wounds, but then Robin and Lissa came out here and…well…I-I didn’t want to give myself away…”

“Oh boy,” Lissa sighed, “I’m glad you’re OK, at least.”

“Please let me come with you,” Sumia begged, “once I get her all patched up, we’ll be ready to go! It’s just a flesh wound, anyway.  She was just upset because I was gone for so long.”

“Well,” Chrom turned to Robin, “we can’t just make her go back, especially not this late. What say you, Robin?”

 

…for a moment, her lip quivered in hesitation…

 

“Sure,” Robin said, “of course! Of course you’ll be coming with us, Sumia.  Chrom’s right, we can’t just make you go back to Ylisstol.  You’re a Shepherd anyway, right?  We should have asked you to come to begin with. I’m sorry about that.”

“I-I am, too,” Chrom added, “sorry, Sumia.  I guess I put you in more danger leaving you behind than having you come with us.”

“Please don’t be sorry, Captain,” Sumia said with a smile, “I understand why you thought I should stay behind, but I’m capable! I’ll show you, don’t worry!”

“I’ll believe you,” Chrom said with a matching smile, even paired with a chuckle, “come on, we’ve got some stronger stuff back with the rest of the group that should help your pegasus out.”

“Thank you, Captain.”  Sumia took hold of the reigns and guided her pegasus along, alongside Chrom nonetheless.  The four of them veered off back into the forest where the rest of the Shepherds waited for their next command.  Soon, idle chitchat between Pegasus Knight and prince broke the silence, while Lissa and Robin took up the rear.  Lissa seemed off in her own world, while Robin…Robin couldn’t help but to keep a cold gaze upon their heels.  Almost lifeless, in a way. 

Prim and proper. Perfumed and pretty.  Radiant. Delicate. Noble.  

While looking down at her arm, flexing her hand to see if the pain was still there, she noticed a wet spot appear on her bandage.  Reflexively she looked above—not a cloud in sight.  It was then that she touched her cheek…

 

Why was it damp?

 

“Hey,” Lissa whispered, “Robin? Are you OK?”

“Yeah…” she muttered, “That was weird.”

 

* * *

 

Chrom ripped himself from his sleep, sitting up from his bedroll and feeling as if he had the wind knocked out of him. It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer in a dream, rather, he was still in his tent where the Shepherds decided to make camp for the evening.  A small nap, he told himself, it would be a small nap before dinner.  But judging by the chill in the air and the lack of light in his quarters, it must have been closer to dinner than he had expected.

“Gods,” he muttered to himself, finally able to lean back on his elbows, “how long was I out for?”

He lay there for a few minutes, his mind wandering and wracking his brain to revisit what he had dreamt about.  Something he usually did when he had time, but mostly in that situation because _something_ happened to cause him to wake up so suddenly.  He closed his eyes and tried to piece together what he could remember—Robin was there, they were having a fight. The same fight that they had the other day.  Then he remembered him apologizing to her.  Then…there was a flash of them holding hands, followed by him…kissing her?

He knit his brow for a moment…

For whatever reason, he then remembered the sight of his disrobed tactician hovering above him, alluring gaze and all with a smile upon her features that read, ‘This is your punishment, Prince Chrom’.

And then the lord shot back up again from his bedroll.  He _loudly_ exhaled at the thought, shaking his head to try to rid such licentious thoughts. How could he dream of something like that about his _tactician!? Who he had only known for a week??_ Unbelievable.  Robin was his _friend_ , even if she hadn’t spoken to him for the last few days of the march.  He knew she was still upset with him, but he had no idea how to go about apologizing to her.  Deep down, he truly felt that she deserved more than a few awkward words and a weird handshake. 

“Oh, gee,” he sighed, “Gods. Gods, I am just a degenerate, aren’t I?”

It wasn’t until he shifted when he realized the odd stiffness between his legs. Chrom looked down to see the awkward rise in his trousers,

“Good Gods!” he yelped, “A-are you kidding me? Robin is my friend! C’mon…”

He then realized he felt like a complete idiot for yelling at his penis…

But the entire situation ultimately freaked him out—never before, ever, had he had a dream where he partook in something so lewd with another person.  Never before had he even _imagined_ becoming intimate and sexual with another person.  Why, all of a sudden, was he getting hard at the thought of his tactician?

Slowly, he got himself to his feet, legs quivering and erection still rather prominent. How bothersome.

“I-I’ll just wait,” he whispered to himself, “It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll-”

“Milord!”

“Frederick!” Chrom’s voice even rose a pitch when he called out to his knight, “D-don’t come in!”

“Are you by chance disrobed!? How!? It’s freezing! It snowed while you were asleep, Milord. I have come to deliver your winter wares—a hand-knit scarf and warmer gloves. I can also see to it, at your request if you will, that an extra sleeve be attached to your-”

“I’m fine!” he wheezed, “Just leave them outside the tent! I-I’ll get them.”

“…Milord, are you alright?”

“Yes!”

“It doesn’t sound so. I raised you from diapers, there is nothing I have not seen.”

And thus, Frederick poked his head into Chrom’s tent, to which the lord had already turned away to hide his shame,

“I said I was fine, Frederick.” He said behind barred teeth, “Please.”

“I have yet to see your tactician rear herself from her tent,” Frederick began, “we’ve much to discuss this evening in terms of strategy as we cross into Regna Ferox. Would you wish to wake her yourself, or-”

“I’m _sure_ someone else can get her.” He wheezed, “I’m a little preoccupied at the moment…plus, I’m sure she would prefer to have someone else talk to her.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right, you two had a fight the other day.” Frederick said, “I’ve had my eye on her since then. I am wary of allowing her to take charge when she has little control over her personal feelings.”

“I don’t think that’s fair to her,” Chrom replied, “what I said to her—it wasn’t right. She has a right to be upset with me.”

“That changes nothing. She could have gotten you killed with such carelessness.”

“Give her another chance, Frederick.”

“Is there a reason you’re not looking at me, Milord?”

“I’m fine!”

“…Oh.” Frederick finally retrieved himself from the tent, “My apologies, Milord. You did _just wake up_. I can imagine you’re going through some…things…supper should be waiting for you when you’re ready, Milord. Please make haste, as it might get cold.”

“Just woke-” he looked down once more, “a-ah. Ah! Yes. Yes, that’s- that’s why! Yes. Mhm.”

Still, Chrom could do nothing but hide his face in shame during dinner _and_ his meeting with Robin that night. Their fight, and his little biological betrayal, made for an awkward silence between the two up until the gates of the Feroxian border…


	8. Flowers in Ferox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom and the Shepherds face off against Captain Raimi of Ferox. Lissa shows off her amazing healing skills, and Chrom receives some unsolicited advice.

The Shepherds trudged through the snow towards the Feroxian Border, taking a lesser-known path than most traders so as to not disturb the peace.  With Plegia becoming more and more aggressive, Frederick advised that the Shepherds keep a low profile so as to not agitate the border patrol.  Certainly, Phila’s Knights wouldn’t stand for a group of foreigners marching towards Ylisse with spears and swords in hand, and Chrom and Robin both agreed that keeping things sheathed and even approaching the longfort on foot would be a wiser decision.

“I-it’s so cold,” Lissa whimpered while pulling her scarf up to her nose, “how do they live up here like this?”

“Take shelter beside my horse, Milady. She’ll block the gusts of wind for you.” Frederick nudged Lissa closer to his steed, “Milord, how are you?”

“Holding up,” Chrom hissed while another snowflake hit him in the eye, “as best as I can.”

Robin simply stared at his bare arm—bright red, near close to frostbite, if she could hazard a guess. She couldn’t offer him her cloak, it was the only line of defense she had against the harsh winter wind.  _Why did he only have one sleeve?_  Was the pride of his brand worth losing the arm altogether!?

“…You should really wrap that up, Captain.” Robin called out, “It’s looking raw.”

“Captain?” Chrom whispered under his breath, “But-”

“Milord, I insist.” Frederick stopped in his tracks, yanking a dark blue cloak from a saddlebag on his horse, “You _must_ keep yourself warm. You’ll catch a cold, or worse.”

But Chrom stood silent, watching Robin walk on ahead with the group with the word ‘Captain’ still lingering in the air. It felt so cold, colder than the wind that chapped his cheeks. He really, truly, needed to make amends with Robin.  It…hurt so much to hear her reply to him in such a way, even if that’s what everyone else called him. 

_All I did was tell her how I felt. Did I truly wrong her that badly?_

“Milord.”

“Right.” Chrom threw the cloak over his person, covering the brand but almost instantly warming his arm all the same, “Let’s keep going.”

But as they reached an entryway into the heavily-guarded halidom, the gate slammed down before them and caused each and every mount to whinny in terror. 

“Halt!” Chrom called out to the Shepherds, “We’ve been cut off!”

“Who goes there!?” a feminine voice cried out from above, “Regna Ferox will not be breeched by brigands! Prepare your arms!”

“Prepare arms!? You are mistaken! You are before Lord Chrom, Prince of the Halidom of Ylisse!” Frederick shot back,

“Pah!” the woman shot back, “You think you are the first to claim royal lineage to Ylisse who has tried to cross my border? Away with you!”

“Please,” Chrom stepped forward, “I am the brother of the Exalt. I am here on her behalf to discuss a deal with the leader of your nation, one that will benefit the both of us! If you would let us pass-”

“Fire!”

 

The air stood still for a moment. Robin quickly turned to Chrom, who stared upwards towards the ramparts in awe as a sea of javelins rained down from the sky.

 

“Chrom!” she screeched.  He looked directly at her, lurching forward before a gust swept him off of his feet—a pegasus whizzed past Frederick, Lissa, and Robin at lightning speed. The javelins all landed in the snow before them with a thud, but Chrom’s body was nowhere to be found. 

“Chrom!?” Lissa yelped, “W-where’d he go!?”

“Look!” Frederick pointed his lance to the sky, “Sumia!?”

“I got him!” she cried out from above, “Captain Chrom is safe!”

“Fire!” the woman screeched again.  More javelins.  But Sumia guided her pegasus away from them with ease, though the mount immediately swooped down to the ground with a loud _thud_ as it landed.  Chrom rolled off, laying in the snow with an attempt to catch his breath.

“I-I’m sorry! She can’t hold so much weight!” Sumia said, “Are you alright, Captain?”

“F-Fine!” he coughed, “Gods! They’re out for blood!”

“Get into formation!” Robin cried out to the Shepherds, “If it’s a fight they want, we’ll give them a fight!”

The small militia raised their unsheathed weapons in unison, crying out for their country before the main cavalry went forwards towards the Feroxian forces running down the stairwells on each side. 

“This is a nonlethal fight! Subdue all enemies!” Robin commanded, “We _will_ get through this fortress!”

“I’d like to see you try!” the woman replied once more, this time revealing herself from atop the fortress, clad in steel with a silver lance pointed directly at the tactician, “I am Captain Raimi of Regna Ferox. I accept your challenge! Prove to me that you are who you claim to be!”

“Oh, he will.” Robin muttered under her breath.  It was then that Frederick looked to the tactician rather sternly, as if he were counting on her in some way before he rode off towards the main offense.  Sumia followed suit behind him, grabbing a javelin from the ground to use as a weapon herself.  Lissa ran to her brother, joined by his tactician, and quickly waved her staff over him,

“Get up!” Lissa yelped, “C’mon, Chrom. We need you!”

Yet Chrom could only roll over on his side, still shocked by the near-death experience.  It was true that he almost became a human pincushion, and Robin couldn’t imagine the pain he felt when Sumia had to rip him away with a steel grasp against bare skin.  She could see the bruises already forming underneath his brand.  However, the way the structure of his shoulder appeared alarmed the tactician. She had no choice but to test her theory by nudging it,

“Gods!” he yelped, “Robin!”

“She dislocated his shoulder.” Robin said,

“Dis-dislo-dislo…oh!” Lissa jumped up, immediately placing the crystal of her staff onto his arm, “I-I think this will help!”

…

And she swung at him. Hard. Really hard.  Never before had anyone heard Chrom cry out in such agony to the point that he rolled onto his stomach while grabbing at his shoulder.  The crystal lit up, however, and a bright light enveloped his entire arm.

“D-Did you really have to _hit_ him!?” Robin coughed,

“Probably not.” Lissa stepped back a bit, “But it was worth a shot. I thought maybe that would help pop it back in.”

“Can you get up?” Robin asked,

“Yeah,” Chrom wheezed, using Falchion to bring himself to his feet, “I-I’m fine. But, Lissa, please, never do that again.”

“Fix your shoulder?” she asked curiously,

“No! _Hit me in my wounded shoulder when you probably didn’t have to!”_

“Stop bickering, both of you!” Robin hissed, “Your men are fighting for you out there. Come on, before they send out another barrage of javelins.”

Once again, Chrom had to take a moment to recollect himself.  But Robin, however, was already heading to her designated position with tome in hand.  Chrom closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what she had told him—

“ _According to this map, we’ll have to bypass a fort to get in, there’s no going around that.  We should expect some resistance, especially if we’re not receiving a warm welcome.  We’ll have a cavalry battalion strike first to hold off their first wave. Each fort has a set of stairs, we’ll need to break off and head to the main point, here, where we can assume a commander sits.  Chrom, you and I will flank them from both sides.”_

 

“Right.” He muttered to himself, brandishing Falchion as he took off to the left—

The right. _Robin_ went to the left.

He sprinted towards the stairs with little resistance—the Shepherds did everything in their power to subdue the enemy, even if the Feroxians wanted them grounded; some, _literally_.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an archer take aim at Sumia, someone more than vulnerable to an arrow piercing her mount’s wings.  If hit at the right time, it would send her tumbling to the ground, just as he did.  However, a wounded mount would most likely land on her and crush her completely—that was the caveat of what was left of Ylisse’s defenses, and it worried Chrom that Plegia would come in with nothing but sharpshooters to get through their western border battalion…

But there was no way he could make it up there in time, not at the rate he went while running through the snow.  All he could do was pray that Sumia could see it through the fray, if not Frederick hearing Chrom as he yelled, “Archer!”

But despite the sound of steel clashing against steel, Frederick could _always_ hear his lord’s voice.  The knight saw the bow pointed directly at the Pegasus Knight beside him, and with a loud grunt, sent his own lance whizzing towards the enemy.  By Robin’s orders, it did not kill the man. However, it pierced his wrist with excellent accuracy, and the bow fell off the tower and into the bushes below. 

“Nice shot!” Sumia giggled, tossing the javelin to Frederick and brandishing her steel lance, “You have better aim than I do!”

“Fly low, Sumia!” Frederick called out, “Make sure to keep an eye on your surroundings! They’ll aim straight for you!”

“Yes, sir!”

The corners of Chrom’s lips curled into a confident smile before he whisked off through the trees and snuck up onto the ramparts.  Just beyond a supply crate or two was Captain Raimi standing behind her men, commanding them with a fierceness that sent a shiver down Chrom’s spine—or perhaps that was just the weather. He needed to wait for Robin’s signal…wherever she was. Gods, what was taking her so long? She was supposed to land the first flank strike. 

“Robin, please be safe,” he muttered to himself while gripping Falchion with both hands, “c’mon, Robin.”

But to no avail—Robin was too preoccupied with the fight below to make it to her station.  The main guard must have assumed Chrom was down, as they seemed to target the tactician next.  Chrom could only see blasts of fire in the air, most likely Robin’s way of intimidating the enemy into submission.  But with Raimi downed, the Shepherds would no longer need to fight.  He had to take matters into his own hands.

“Forgive me, your plan was in good faith.” He whispered to her, somehow believing she could hear him across the battlefield. 

“Aha!” Raimi cackled, already charging towards him, “I knew you would try to slip through my defenses! You won’t get past me!”

How did she see him so easily? Chrom could have sworn he was well-hidden, but perhaps she had scouts about the battlefield?  There was no time to think, her lance was already pointed in his direction and Chrom had to quickly dodge before she pierced his side.  He would admit—this was the first trained soldier he had fought aside from Frederick.  Brigands were one thing, but someone picked by _the leader of a country_? To defend their border? Chrom was a child in comparison to Raimi.  And she held nothing back, swiping at him left and right as fast as an armored knight could,

“You’re tenacious!” she laughed, “Much more so than the other ‘Prince Chrom’s that have come at me!”

“You’re mistaken!” he yelped, dodging another strike, “I am no Plegian brigand! I am the _real_ Prince Chrom of Ylisse!”

“You sure as hell aren’t fighting like one!”

That time she managed a nonlethal strike to his gut with the long side of her lance, pushing him back a few feet, almost over the edge of the fort,

“Fine,” he hissed, “you want a fight? I’ll show you!”

Steel-on-Falchion clashed for a few moments, Chrom taking every chance to strike Raimi, but not so much as landing a single blow to her armor.  She was a lancer, someone trained specifically against sword users.  It wasn’t a fight Chrom was able to win on his own, and he understood why Robin urged him to pair up with her. 

“Easy there, ‘Prince’,” Raimi said, “a novice mistake!”

And with that, she used her steel-clad arm to brace against Chrom’s Falchion, using her right hand to twirl the lance in the air and bring it down towards Chrom’s arm.  However, instead of her weapon falling on bare skin, her lance clanged against the bronze blade that Robin had used to counter her strike.  Somehow, the tactician was able to worm her way through the fray and place her weapon directly in front of Chrom’s person.  Though only with one hand, and thus the sword was sent flying through the air as Raimi took a step back.

“Predictable,” Robin said aloud before opening her tome, “you’re finished!”

Chrom had no choice but to shield his eyes as a blast of fire erupted from Robin’s fingertips. The next moment, Raimi sat on the ground in a heap with singed hair and her lance tossed to the side,

“I yield!” she said, “Stand down! I yield!”

Suddenly, the entire brigade came to a halt, leaving the Shepherds to stand with their weapons drawm out in confusion.  But all of the Feroxians laid down their weapons, and the Shepherds instinctively backed off from their opponents. 

“Robin,” Chrom said with a hush, “you-”

“I was poorly mistaken,” Raimi muttered, “no Plegian has bested me in combat before.  Could you truly be Prince Chrom? And who are you?” she looked to Robin, “Are you his protégé?”

“Tactician,” Chrom sputtered, “S-She’s my tactician.”

“I see,” Raimi brought herself to her feet, “again, you must forgive me.”

“Milord! Are you safe!?” Frederick called out from below,

“Yes! Just fine!” Chrom shot back, “Is everyone else alright?”

“Just fine, no lethal injuries to report, sire.”

“You must understand our circumstances,” Raimi began, “Plegia has been trying to instigate a war between our nations for quite time some.  As I said earlier, you are not the first ‘Prince Chrom’ to try to cross our border.”

“It’s worse than I thought,” Chrom mused, “then, if you don’t mind, would you let us have passage for the Feroxian capital? Our business here is related to the Plegians, unfortunately.”

“I understand, Prince Chrom.” She said with a bow, “Give me a moment to grab a salve and my mount, I shall personally escort you to Arena Ferox.”

“Wait, Arena Ferox?” Robin asked, “We requested the capital, Captain Raimi.”

“You are seeking the presence of the reigning Khan, correct?  Then going to the capital will be a waste of time. I will explain on the way there.” 

* * *

And so, Raimi prepared herself for their long journey through the treacherous winter wilderness that was Regna Ferox.  All of the Shepherds survived the march, though most of them were not too happy with the bitter cold that Ylisse never once experienced in her lifetime.  Once they arrived at Arena Ferox, most of them ran towards the warmth of the main barracks, while others…specifically, a rather disgruntled prince, chose to mind themselves outside for a moment longer.  It would be a day before they could see the Khan, so the Ylisseans were encouraged to relax and heal their wounds.  Raimi insisted, as if there were something she knew that they did not.  This made Chrom uneasy, wondering what exactly the Feroxians had in store for him.  They were a warrior nation, after all. 

But there was something else eating at him—Robin. His friend. His tactician. Someone who refused to speak with him casually since the day he told her that he didn’t see her as a lady.  Chrom wasn’t aware that Robin could hold a grudge, and he found himself feeling lonelier than usual without her by his side, even if the few days they had known each other prior consisted of informal chitchat and nothing more. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath while cupping his hands together towards his face, “I’m… _sorry_ Robin. I’m sorry. I’m- err…I didn’t…uhm…didn’t mean to…call you a man. Wait, no, I _didn’t_ call her a _man_ , I just- No. Gods.”

“Ah, the soft sounds of a forlorn man who quakes with the fear of permanently tarnishing a flower most beautiful.”

Chrom quickly turned to see another blue-haired noble leaning against the outside wall, who quickly placed a box within his coat while sniffling a bit,

“Virion?”

“Do forgive me, I only came out for but a moment to take in the air. I could not help but to overhear your…somewhat boundless confessions to such a sweet, sweet young _lady_. But, to which have fallen upon deaf ears?”

“Boundless confessions?” Chrom asked, “What? No, no, I…ah…” he bowed his head, turning to leave until Virion reached over and grabbed his shoulder,

“No, no,” Virion began, “it breaks my heart to see a man so down on his luck.”

“I’m not down on my luck, Virion.”

“Then I should rephrase—I cannot allow a fellow gentleman to walk while the opportunity for a blossoming companionship wilts away before him.”

“You got it all wrong,” Chrom brushed his hand away, “Robin and I-”

“Say it how you will,” he scoffed, “but do you want my advice or not?  I have a history of bringing smiles to those pretty little flowers who have been trampled on.  Or, would you rather _me_ go see to the young _lady_.”

“I see word travels fast,” Chrom grumbled,

“Aye.” Virion said with a wink, “Beautiful maidens speak to one another so freely—and loudly, when they think no one is around.”

“Spare me.”

“Oh, come now,” he hummed, “you must think of the soft cheeks which are stained with your words, Prince Chrom.”

“What?”

“I might suggest this,” Virion turned back to the scenery, sniffling into his handkerchief once more, “perhaps you should apologize with more than just empty words. Perhaps, a gift of sorts to woo her would suffice.”

“I-I’m not trying to _woo_ Robin, Virion.”

“Again, say what you will.” He snickered, “I shall not judge what a young man’s loins are set afire for.  I am here only as one man to another.”

“That’s enough.”

“Flowers,” Virion mused, “perhaps a perfume?  I’ve known fuller women to enjoy their cakes and sweets.”

“Flowers?” Chrom chuckled softly, arms outstretched to the snowy landscape around them, “Yeah. I’m sure I can find her flowers out here.  And wouldn’t giving her ‘cakes and sweets’ just say to her that I think she’s, err, a ‘fuller’ woman?”

“Well she’s certainly full in…a few places.”

“That’s it. That’s- OK. _You_ stay out here, I’m going to walk away…and pretend we never had this conversation."

“Suit yourself.” Virion snickered, “Just remember, Prince Chrom; some wild beasts out there fawn over the likes of such a delicate little babe.  You might want to take her home before _someone else_ finds her.”

But Chrom had already left before Virion made his final jab.  Off to Robin’s room he went—the silence had gone on for far too long…  


	9. Gesture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom apologizes to Robin in the utmost awkward fashion. Flavia makes a deal with the Prince of Ylisse.

“Thanks for lending me this book, Robin.” Sumia said while handing the tactician back a rather thick hardback, “I absolutely love historical fiction! Thank you.”

“Well, when you said you enjoyed reading the other day, I couldn’t help but to share one of my favorites, Sumia.” Robin took hold of the novel, “But, Gods, this is over three hundred pages!  How did you read it so quickly?”

Sumia beamed at the tactician with her finger pressed to her lips, “That’s a secret of mine!”

“Your eyes say that you didn’t sleep.” Robin said, to which Sumia immediately straightened,

“O-oh, you got me…When I get into a good book, it’s hard to put it down.”

“It would be hypocritical of me to scold you,” Robin said with a soft chuckle, “I tend to have my own late nights as well.”

“You and I should both try harder to sleep earlier.” Sumia tilted her head with an awkward smile, “Ahah…I heard that a proper amount of sleep helps with your skin, too!” Robin’s hand went to her own cheek, and then a fingertip traced the bags under her eyes. With a grimace, she lowered her head with a sigh, “Oh! D-did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Robin muttered, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind for the last week or so…”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sumia asked, “Sometimes when I’m troubled or feel lost, I do a flower fortune! They tend to help me when I need a little guidance.”

“Flower fortune?” Robin looked back to the knight, “Like, occult stuff?”

“What? No, no, nothing that’s like dark magic or anything! I don’t know how to really explain it…I guess it’s silly of me. I’m sorry.”

“No, go on.”

“Well,” Sumia fidgeted a bit with her hands, “usually I just take any old flower, then I think of a yes or no question, then I just…pluck the petals off until the very last one, which is the answer to my question.”

She looked ashamed to admit this, as if she were scorned for such acts against nature before.  However, to Robin, it appeared that such a task eased Sumia’s anxieties.  She gave Sumia a nod with a warm smile,

“That sounds nice, Sumia.” Robin explained, “It’s not entirely my cup of tea, but I think it’s amazing that you can do such a thing.”

The Pegasus Knight’s face lit up pink, and she quickly got to her feet,

“You think so!? And here I thought what I did was just ruining something beautiful for my own selfish needs.”

_I can’t say that plucking flower petals isn’t a wasteful act…_

“Well, perhaps you could try _not_ using flowers?”

“But that’s what makes my flower fortunes, err, _flower_ fortunes.” She sighed, “A-anyway, thank you again for loaning me that book, Robin. I should get going.”

“So soon?” Robin asked curiously, “You seem rushed—I hope I didn’t keep you that long.”

“No! Not at all.  I just—I promised Frederick tea this evening…” Sumia scrunched back a bit, stepping towards the door without breaking eye contact with Robin, “But it’s just tea! It’s to thank him for the other day! I swear! Oh! And don’t misread me! I wasn’t saying that you needed to fix your skin earlier! You’re super pretty, Robin!”

Again, the tactician’s face lit up red, “S-Sumia, I wasn’t assuming-”

A loud knock on the door disrupted the two flustered women.  But who could have wanted Robin’s attention at such a late hour? 

“Oh, gosh, you were expecting company!” Sumia wheezed, “I’m sorry!”

“I-I wasn’t expecting anyone…”

She didn’t even ask who it was, nor did she give the ‘knocker’ permission to enter.  But the door opened anyway, and a tuft of blue hair poked out from the crack,

“Robin?” Chrom asked softly,

“Captain!” Sumia yelped, “Oh! Oh, you- oh….oh!”

“Sumia?” Chrom slowly opened the door, “I-I’m sorry I thought this was Robin’s-”

“It is!” Sumia hissed, immediately squeezing past him, “Gosh, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you two needed to _discuss tactics_! I’ll be going now.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” Chrom asked as he watched her scoot down the hall (and trip halfway through her escape).

But Robin simply placed her head in her hands—Sumia was making a fuss about Chrom entering her chambers without so much as a question of whether or not she was in there (or decent).  They weren’t _that_ comfortable with each other, specifically Robin to Chrom, who still carried an air of bitterness about her after his commentary.

“What do you want, Captain?” Robin asked.  Chrom inched back when he heard her exasperated tone—and once again, she called him ‘Captain’ instead of ‘Chrom’.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, Robin.” He said,

“I’m aware.” She finally lifted her head from her hands, “Is there a reason you barged in?  One knock isn’t exactly courteous of you, you know?  Or did you miss those lessons as well?”

“Robin, please,” he sighed, “please just give me a moment to explain myself.”

“You’ve had a week to explain yourself.  Besides, I’m over it.”

“Obviously, you’re not.” He added.  She balled her cloak up in her hands and proceeded to glare daggers at him.  Yet he seemed unfazed, “But I’m not here to upset you, Robin.  I just…I needed time to figure out how to properly apologize to you.”

“A simple and sincere ‘sorry’ would have sufficed.  But waiting a week? You can’t just do that without some sort of repercussion.” 

Robin stood up from her seat and approached him, and she placed her hand upon the door with the intent to shut him out.  But Chrom placed his hand upon the frame to stop her, and from behind his back he revealed…a bouquet?  Well, in theory it was supposed to be one, but the flowers weren’t all that fresh…and they were dripping with water.

“What in the seven hells is this!?” Robin coughed, face as red as an apple, “I don’t understand-”

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, hiding his face behind them, “I didn’t think you deserved a casual apology—what I said hurt you. I know it did.  I didn’t think before I spoke, and I’ve been meaning to make it up to you since the words left my mouth, Robin.  I’m sorry.”

“You idiot,” she hissed, yet she took them gently in her grasp, “you—you can’t just _give_ me flowers like this, Chrom. In fact, _where_ did you get these?”

Chrom glanced off to the side, “Don’t worry about that. Look, I just wanted to do something _nice_ for you, alright?  It’s completely platonic, Robin.”

You don’t just give a woman flowers _platonically_

“Chrom, _where did you get these?_ ” she asked once more. Chrom sighed, leaning against the doorframe with a look of shame across his features,

“They’re…the decorative ones from down the hall.”

She lowered the bouquet, “Excuse me?”

“As I was walking by, I noticed them and with the intent on grabbing a _few_ I…knocked the vase over.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, both of their faces red with embarrassment.  But for a moment, Robin placed the bunch in front of her visage to hide her smile—she could just imagine how he so carefully plucked a few flowers before knocking the vase one way, attempting to stable it yet ultimately using too much force and thus juggling the porcelain fixture until it crashed onto the floor.  Hilarious.  

“…Please accept them as a sincere gesture of my apology,” Chrom whispered, “I know it’s odd. I know that I’ve…probably made things more awkward between us. But I’m not really a man of words, you know?”

“I accept.” She responded quietly, “But, please, know that between us you can simply tell me a sincere apology, a ‘sorry’ if you will, and it’ll suffice.”

“Then, ‘I’m sorry’, Robin.” He said with a warm smile, “Heh…I feel a little better now saying that.”

“Well, I’m glad the guilt won’t eat away at you, Chrom.  Now, you’d better head off before someone notices you broke that vase.”

“Right.”

But his presence lingered, both tactician and captain simply looking at each other, not sure if they knew how to end their conversation.  But despite the silence, both of them felt comfort in each other’s company.  In fact, Chrom almost offered to see if she’d join him for a walk, perhaps to get an idea of what this ‘arena’ was like.  But as he parted his lips, Robin began to nudge the door closed,

“I’m rather tired,” she admitted, “I still have a few preparations to make for tomorrow just in case we’re presented with a fight.  It’s best to be prepared, since Regna Ferox is known to enjoy the art of combat.  I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning, yes?”

Though he was disheartened to see Robin shutting him off again, the light returned to his eyes when she offered to have a meal with him,

“Yes, of course. And we can discuss your strategy then, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She beamed, “I hope I’ll impress you.”

“You always do.”

“Good night, Chrom. Get some rest.”

And Robin closed the door, immediately placing the lock on it so that no one would disturb her.  Her heart raced, and in order to calm it she had no choice but to brace her back against the barrier and slide down until she sat upon the stone flooring.   

“Idiot.” She muttered, “You’re an idiot. You can’t just _say_ that to me and then give me _flowers_.”

Her balled fist pressed itself against her chest, as if the pressure would slow her beating heart.  How juvenile to feel such warmth when being around a prince like Chrom.  She felt like nothing more than a fawning lovebird—aching for something that she knew she could never have.  She didn’t _love_ him, but there were certain times before their argument when she felt a sort of connection with him.  But, she had only known Chrom for such a short while—those feelings weren’t genuine.  She knew they couldn’t be.  Something deep inside her must have had an attraction for a man of his type, but Robin knew that such feelings were temporary.

And besides, Chrom _still_ made the comment about her not being feminine. And more recently, Robin picked up on his conversations with Sumia.  They were close—they had known eachother for years.  And she praised him, she followed him, and even once during their trip Robin saw Sumia bring him a pie.  He smiled when he accepted it, beaming at her as if she were an angel coming down with a merciful gift.  Sumia was the epitome of femininity and beauty—the elegant, Pegasus-riding woman skilled in cooking and cleaning. Robin couldn’t even make a stew if she tried, let alone bake something warm for her captain to enjoy during a cold Feroxian winter. 

There was no way he could be fond of her in a way past seeing her as…one of the boys.

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest,

“He’s a good man, and a good friend.” She whispered to herself, holding one of the flowers up to her lips, “And I am his tactician. I’m under his command by contract. Nothing more can come of this.”

And yet, after she said that, she plucked a petal from the flower in her hand.

Then another…and another.

Until the last petal fell to the floor.

 

* * *

 

The next morning the Shepherds gathered in the dining area of the arena—the citadel itself had the appearance of a castle, and the luxuries of one, yet it carried a fiery atmosphere that gave each and every warrior a sense of urgency to fight.  Perhaps it was due to the numerous flaming fixtures, or maybe the entire concept of the building encircling an area of battle was what gave the Shepherds the zeal to battle.  Whatever it was, it seemed to put Chrom and Robin both on edge.  Chrom had never been in such an area before, as Ylisse did not necessarily put an emphasis on combat, but more on peaceful diplomacy and production.  Robin, on the other hand, felt that a sort of ambush might have been planned for them.

“Ferox and Ylisse have been on good terms for years,” Chrom explained as he went with Robin to the main meeting room, “I really doubt we’re going to be greeted by an army anytime soon.”

“But don’t you get the feeling that you’re being watched?” she asked, “I dunno, I just don’t want us to not be prepared.”

“Well, I can understand the first thing you said,” Chrom admitted, “last night as I was taking my leave I felt…as if someone was there.”

“You think someone was listening in on our conversation?” Robin asked,

“Maybe. Perhaps it was a good idea we didn’t discuss our plans right then and there.”

“Certainly.”

Robin was more concerned with word going around that Chrom gave her flowers.  She didn’t want anyone assuming that she and Chrom were having a sort of rendezvous…

“So,” she began, “Regna Ferox is ruled by a khan, correct?”

“Yeah. And their politics are pretty much based on fighting.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I was asked to throw down with the khan myself.”

“That would be a sight to see,” she snickered, “I can just imagine what they’re like. A big, strong behemoth of a man, I assume.”

“Well, you assumed wrong, but I appreciate the compliment.”

Robin and Chrom turned to see a woman, clad in scarlet armor, approach them with a devilish smirk,

“I like the idea of throwing down with Prince Chrom, though.  It’s been awhile since I’ve made royalty cry.”

“Oh—Gods, forgive me.” Robin whimpered, “I’m assuming you must be the khan?”

“No need to apologize. While I’m no bear of a man, I don’t let little shots like that get to me.  Yes, I’m Khan Flavia of eastern Regna Ferox.  Nice to meet the two of you.  Judging by your garb and just by how you look, you’re the strategist for Ylisse, yes?”

“Well, for Chrom’s Shepherds, yes.” Robin explained,

“Judging by what I’ve heard, that’s basically your army anyway.  I was filled in on the details of your request by Raimi.  You need soldiers, yeah?”

“We do,” Chrom explained, “Plegian brigands have continued to cross over our border, but our actual army is in shambles, still.  From what Raimi was saying, it doesn’t seem like your nation is fond of Plegia’s actions either, correct?”

“You’re so formal,” Flavia sighed, “but, I get what you’re saying.  Those damn Plegians have been trying to parade around as Ylisseans for months now.”

Chrom seemed to relax once a curse was thrown out.  Perhaps, in a different life, he would have been more suited to be a khan rather than a prince,

“And we plan to put an end to that before it gets worse,” Chrom said, “but we need more soldiers to put those dastards back in their place.  Will you help us?”

“Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about.” Flavia said with a hearty chuckle, “But as much as I like your zeal, Prince Chrom, I can’t do anything for you right now.”

“You mean to say you have your border armed to the teeth but you’ve no spare soldiers?”

“What do you take my country for!?” she hissed, “Of _course_ I have soldiers to spare.  What I don’t have is the authority to do so.”

“She’s right,” Robin pointed out,” now that I think about it, I read that Ferox is divided between East and West because of its size.  No one ruler could really handle all of that land at once, right?  So there are two khans.”

“What a bright one you got here,” Flavia said, giving a nod towards Robin, “and to keep things peaceful, there’s only one khan who gets the final say on if we go to war or not, or who we aid or not.  I’m not that khan. That would be the West Khan, Basilio, who has that power.  He’s the big burly oaf your tactician was daydreaming about.”

“Excuse me-”

“Then why can’t we speak with him?” Chrom asked, brow furrowed in frustration.

“You should have entered through the western half,” Flavia shot back with a smirk, “but you came through the east, so you get to deal with me.  But, I’ve got a proposition for you.  You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

“I knew this was a trap.” Robin muttered under her breath,

“What’s your proposition then?” Chrom asked,

“Every few years, we hold a match to decide who becomes the reigning khan.  That’s why Raimi took you here instead of my castle—I want you to fight for me on behalf of Eastern Ferox.  If you win, and I become Khan, you’ll get your soldiers.”

“Why can’t you fight on your own behalf?” Chrom asked,

“That’s how you start internal conflict.  You can’t just sacrifice your own men, you know?  So we normally hire mercenaries to fight it out—not to the death, mind you.  Most of the time.  So while that oaf enlisted some group he found near your northern border, I’m coming in with the actual _prince_ himself.”

“Fine.” Chrom leered at Flavia, “We’ll fight for you in the arena, but it’s a deal that our victory will result in your cooperation, right?”

“Of course, Prince Chrom.” Flavia had an air of confidence about her, “Mark my words, you will get your soldiers when I have the authority to do so.”


	10. Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shepherds square off in the arena against Basilio's mercenaries. Chrom faces off against the mysterious 'Marth', and the after party leads to some interesting conversations.

The Shepherds gathered in the holding area, large enough for the small army yet still feeling as if they were caged animals.  Some, like Sully and Vaike, were eager to sharpen their blades and get a taste of what the West Khan had to offer.  Miriel made an off comment of the barbaric nature of such an event, to which Sumia nodded her head in agreement towards.  Chrom stood still, staring off towards the opposing entrance through the iron gates—Flavia said that they were going up against other mercenaries, and while this lit a fire in the young lord’s soul, he couldn’t help but to fear that this choice might have endangered his friends.  They had no idea who they were up against. 

“We’re going in in a series of waves,” Robin explained to the rest of the group, “It’s similar to a tournament—once you’re defeated, you have a choice to yield, or to fall.  Remember that Ylisse’s best interests are on the line here, so we ask that you take this battle seriously.”

Chrom gave a nod towards her, “She’s right, everyone. However, I don’t want any of you dying out there, so if you have to yield, by all means, yield.  But everyone here is representing the Halidom of Ylisse, so fight with your all!”

Everyone raised their weapons and cheered, even Lissa, who chose to stay back to heal the wounded, raised her staff with a loud cry.  Robin’s gaze fell upon Chrom, who raised his sacred blade along with his army.  There was something about the young man’s presence that inspired even the tactician, who raised her own blade alongside his.  Chrom couldn’t help but to smile at Robin for joining him before looking back to his soldiers,

“Are you with me, Shepherds?”

Again they cried out in response, calling out ‘For Ylisse!’

“Into position, just as Robin instructed!” Frederick called out, yet his manner of speaking almost seemed like a father corralling his children.  But everyone did as they were told, knights and cavaliers taking the first wave, followed by standard infantries supported by archers and mages.  The last standing were Robin and Chrom, who watched as their soldiers exited the barricade once the gates were pulled from the ground. 

“I can’t say I’m much of a fan of being back here.” Chrom muttered,

“Arena play is different, Chrom.  It’s almost like a battle of endurance, you see.”

“I could be fighting out there _with_ them, though, Robin.”

“I’d rather you not die out before they send out their final wave, Chrom.  Please, trust me on this.”

He looked to Robin who stood to his left, clenching his jaw and the hilt of his sword, “…I trust you, Robin.”

So both tactician and prince watched, almost painfully, as their friends fought before them.  The opposing side sent out waves of mostly myrmidons, who were almost equally matched with the Shepherds.  It seemed like hours had passed, yet in reality it was mere minutes of intense fighting which left both sides bruised and bloodied, but not dead.  It seemed that whoever commanded the other team must have had the same belief set as Chrom and Robin.  Yet each army ran thin, until the last few infantry units yielded to the remaining swordsmen—Chrom and Robin were outnumbered, at the very least, five against two. 

“M-Milord,” Frederick huffed, “forgive me. I went to guard a fellow Shepherd and I—”

“Lissa, treat Frederick’s wound.” Chrom said to his sister, “Robin and I can handle the rest.”

“But are you sure!?” Lissa yelped, “There’s a lot of ‘em!”

“We’ll be fine.” Chrom looked to his tactician as he drew Falchion, the glimmer catching Robin’s eye for a moment, “Don’t hesitate on me, now.”

“I’m not.” She shot back, brandishing her tome, “For Ylisse, right?”

“For Ylisse.”

“Be careful you two!” Lissa huffed, “I can only do so much with one staff!”

“I’ll keep Chrom safe, Lissa.” Robin assured her, “Trust me.”

“Hey now,” Chrom grinned while walking backwards, almost _excited_ to actually go out and fight, “I think I owe you one after the Longfort.”

“Please, you didn’t hire me just to protect me, Chrom.” Robin scoffed, though her smile matched his, “I am your tactician and, thus, your shield.”

“Nah, you’re my sword, if anything. _Frederick_ is my shield.”

“Come out, cowards!” one of the mercenaries cried out, “Or do you yield?”

Chrom locked eyes with Robin with a mischievous smirk—Robin did the same, stopping in her tracks and waving her hand over her tome,

“Warning shot?” she asked him. He gave her a nod, and quickly the lord pivoted to face forward, lunging himself towards the enemy with sword drawn and flames whisking past him to guide his hand.  It was a stunning display, one that left the crowd cheering with delight yet causing Flavia to bury her head in her hands—not exactly the most ‘Feroxian’ display, but when she looked up she saw how most of the opposing mercenaries had thrown their swords down while patting the flames from their cloaks.  Meanwhile, Chrom successfully disarmed the stronger looking one, tossing his blade aside with ease intimidating him into submission.  However, the man sitting to Flavia’s right chuckled,

“That ‘aint the last one.  I got a _good_ one left.”

“Two against one, I see.” Flavia muttered, “Your secret weapon better leave me impressed.”

 

Back to the arena, Chrom touched his sword to the ground, looking to Robin expectantly and wondering why Flavia had not called off the fight.  Robin stood up straight, looking around to see if any other opponents remained who hid behind one of the pillars.  Alas, no one was around—it was just the two of them.  She felt the ashy mess that had become her tome, the binding already falling to pieces at her feet. 

“I don’t have much left, Chrom.” She warned him, “Maybe one or two shots at the maximum.”

“But there’s no one left,” he said, “I’ll call to them.”

And so the prince stepped forward towards the entrance of the opposing side, leering into the darkness of the barricade in hopes that, truly, no one was left. Yet a figure appeared out of the darkness, one of whom was familiar to Chrom, as they drew their own sword which clashed along their lordly attire with its familiar glow. 

“Chrom?” Robin asked, “Is that-”

“Marth.” Chrom muttered, “I didn’t realize you were a traveling mercenary.  Very well, while we were allies for a time, it’s time to put your blade to the test.”

The young man stepped out of the darkness in silence, brandishing his sword so that Chrom could see it clearly.  In fact, both stood in the same stance—heavy sword in their grasp, bent forward, legs spread at nearly the exact same angle, from what Robin could see.  But what caught her eye, and even Chrom’s, was the look of his blade.

Falchion. An exact copy.  But wasn’t Chrom’s sword ‘divine’? Who would even think to attempt to replicate a sword that, arguably, was a symbol of Ylissean royalty?  This angered Chrom, fearing that Marth might have been someone who made the attempt to cross the Feroxian border in his name. 

“Where did you get that?” Chrom asked, “Answer me.”

But Marth chose to stay silent, and while his mask kept his features a mystery, Robin could sense that he was only focused on Chrom, and Chrom alone.  The tactician had not met ‘Marth’ in the same way Chrom did, and she knew very little past his dark hair and odd choice in clothing.  Whoever this man was, he inadvertently committed a crime in Chrom’s eyes—a crime of forgery. 

Chrom gave the man little time to answer, and thus he made the choice to attack first.  The prince sprinted towards the young man, yet instead of dealing a straight blow he propelled himself into the air, leaving Robin in some sort of stupor at the sight of Chrom…doing some sort of odd theatric with his blade as he swooped down on his opponent.  While she couldn’t comprehend his acrobatics, Marth had easily countered his blade as if he had seen Chrom do that before.  Both swordsmen traded blows, Falchion against ‘Falchion’ blew sparks into the air. 

Every. Single. Move. Marth was able to counter with ease.

And Robin noticed the sweat forming on Chrom’s brow—the frustrated look in his eyes as he stepped back without so much as nicking Marth’s armor sent a chill down her spine. 

“Who,” Chrom huffed, catching his breath, “who taught you to fight like that!?”

Their blades clashed once more, Marth showing very little signs of fatigue as he pushed Chrom’s sword closer to his throat.  Yet with a loud grunt, the prince was able to push the young man backwards quite a few feet.  He towered over him, and at that point Chrom’s only advantage was his size in comparison.  But with a sort of elegance, Marth copied Chrom’s exact opening move: a dash forward, followed by a propulsion into the air that lead into a forward acrobatics, sword aimed at his shoulder.  But Chrom was able to evade that blow all the same, and faintly one could hear Marth answer with the phrase,

‘My father’.

Marth pointed his sword to Chrom, lips taught as if he were trying to keep some sort of emotion at bay.  Chrom brought himself to his feet, glaring at the young man,

“Well, your father and I should have a word.  ‘Seems like I might have an admirer.”

“You’ll never have that chance.” Marth grunted, “Enough talk. Come at me!”

Foolishly, Chrom went for Marth’s bait.  He was visibly slowed down, each swing becoming easier for the more-agile fighter to read and, therefore, punish with the blunt end of the sword.  There was even a point where he got behind Chrom, taking the hilt of his sword and jabbing it into the lord’s back.  Chrom stumbled forward, one knee to the ground and wheezing as the searing pain made its way up his spine.

“You’re better than this.” Marth jeered, “Get up and fight!”

Chrom could only turn his head and glare—he thought they were evenly matched…but this boy, this boy had years more experience on him. And how? How could that have been possible? 

“I’m—I’m just…getting…” he used his blade to get to his feet, but by then Marth had already approached him with the tip of his blade to Chrom’s throat. 

“Yield.” Marth muttered, “You’re not ready. Not at all-”

Fire. Fire engulfed the edge of Marth’s cloak to the point he had to pivot away from Chrom in order to put it out. 

“I’ll have to step in.” Robin said, hand aflame with a burning tome in the other, “You’ve made an error in your tactics—never turn your back on the enemy. Fire!”

Again, another blast of flames left Robin’s depleted tome, nay, a shower of fire rained down on the young lord who made every attempt to roll-dodge his way out of the blast.  Eventually the young man got to his feet, and as he brought his attention towards Robin, his hands visibly beginning to shake.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked, “Are you not a fan of magic? Fine.”  The tactician dropped her tome, which didn’t even make it to the floor as a solid object, but a pile of ash.  She brandished her iron blade as she approached Marth, “I’ll take you on in hand-to-hand combat, then.”

He stepped back, hands still shaking and teeth barred as if Robin were a terrifying force, one which a Risen could not even hold a candle to.  But Robin continued forward, faster and faster she picked up her pace, ready to go hand-to-hand with someone who…most certainly outclassed her in swordsmanship.  But what could she do?  She couldn’t let Marth force Chrom to yield.  _She had to be his sword._  

“Come on!” Robin called out, “Take up your blade, Marth!”

…But he couldn’t.  He dropped it to the floor, taking a knee with his head bowed low,

“I yield.” He said, “I-I yield. I yield.”

And the crowd cheered.  Flavia, in disbelief, dropped her sword and cried out with delight at the Shepherd’s victory.  The man beside her threw his ale down in frustration. 

Robin, however, felt cold with that win.  There was a hesitation—by no means should Marth had surrendered when she obviously carried no weapon that he couldn’t go up against.  An iron blade was nothing against Falchion…why did he give up so easily?

She exhaled, turning away from him and going to Chrom to aid him however she could. 

“You alright?” she asked him, offering her hand.  Chrom grasped it, still using Falchion to bring himself to his feet,

“Y-yeah. Gods, Robin, that was…that was something.  You scared the soul out of him.” Chrom proceeded to give her a pat on the shoulder, nay, he wrapped his arm around her for a tight hug, “That was amazing!”

“Chrom!” she hissed, pushing him away, “S-stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“What?” he yelped, “It was—I do that to Vaike all the time! It wasn’t-”

The rest of the Shepherds poured out into the main arena, greeting Robin and Chrom with cheering and applauding (and a few vulneraries).  Many of the Shepherds gazed upon Robin in awe, and Chrom was taken aback by how warmly everyone greeted the pair, truly feeling that Robin…was his partner.

But any true warrior knew that in a battle of endurance, it was proper etiquette to aid the fallen.  Chrom shrugged a hollering Vaike off and turned towards where he last saw Marth, who had already gotten to his feet by then. 

Chrom noticed the man run the back of his hand against his cheek before looking to the prince, his tactician, and then to the holding area which he quickly fled to.

“Wait, Marth!” Chrom called out, “Come back! I have…a few questions. Damn it.”

“Chrom?” Robin gently touched his back, to which he immediately grimaced and bent forward,

“G-Gods.” He grunted, “Agh, where’s Lissa?”

“I was just about to ask if you needed her. Come on, we have to meet with Flavia now about our soldiers.”

“Can’t I rest for a second?”

“Your duty calls first.” She said with a smirk, “C’mon, do you need to use my shoulder to lean on?”

“It didn’t seem like you wanted to be touched.”

“O-oh please.” Robin huffed, “I just wasn’t expecting you to embrace me like that.”

“Would you rather I punch you in the arm? I do that to Vaike, too.”

“Would you rather I punch you in the back?”

“What?”

“Come on, you dolt.” And with a soft chuckle, Robin bridged Chrom’s arm over her shoulders, leaning against him and nudging him along towards Lissa. 

 

* * *

 

Flavia and the West Khan (now dethroned as the ‘head’ khan) Basilio threw a celebration party for the Shepherds in honor of Flavia’s victory and the strengthened diplomatic relations between Regna Ferox and Ylisse.  As promised, Flavia gave Chrom the troops he needed to take back to Ylisse, leaving the lord slightly overwhelmed with the amount of soldiers under his command for the time being. That being said, the responsibility placed on him did not seem to change his naivety and maturity, for the prince gave in to the peer pressure of his trusted friend, Vaike, and proceeded to indulge in libations throughout the entirety of the party.  While Frederick chose to abstain, the rest of the Shepherds took part in food and drink alongside their Feroxian friends.   

Robin sat at the furthest end of the table, having needed a moment to jot down nots from a more seasoned Feroxian strategist that Flavia had introduced to her at the start of the celebration.  While Chrom had to command the troops, Robin found it best to understand their style of fighting in order to incorporate them into her own battle plans effectively. 

Though, admittedly, it was difficult to concentrate on the information with how loud the rest of the men were…

“Tell it again!” Vaike cackled, “C’mon Chrom! Tell it again!”

“What?” the prince asked with his boyish grin, “The story about how I beat those wolves attacking Ricken?”

“Nah, we’ve heard that one a hundred times! Tell the one about the stable fire!” Vaike said while throwing his fist into Chrom’s shoulder. 

“Haven’t you heard that one a hundred times as well?” Chrom asked while rubbing the spot Vaike punched, “You were the one who started the fire anyway.”

The group began to holler with boisterous laughter, as if all of them had remembered this story from assumedly years ago.  Even Miriel, who kept to herself for the most part, started to softly snicker. 

“You always tell the best stories anyway, Captain.” Stahl said, “Go on!”

“Lissa’s not here, is she?” Chrom looked around, “No? Ok, so it starts off with Vaike trying to woo this stable hand—”

“She was gorgeous!” Vaike said, his hands then waving in front of his chest with a cheeky smirk, “If ya get what I mean—”

Miriel rolled her eyes at him.

“Hey! It’s true! So, anyway, we were doing our little rendezvous one night, ya know—”

“Really?” Virion leaned in with his own cunning grin, “Do Ylissean stable hands always bend over so easily? Perhaps I should have a look for myself.”

“Maybe Vaike should tell the story,” Chrom leaned back, “I wasn’t going to go into detail on _how_ the lantern fell over.”

Robin pinched the bridge of her nose while placing her pen upon her notes.  There was no way she could interject in the conversation, especially when it was subject matter to which she, admittedly, wasn’t too fond of.  She truly debated turning in right then and there, but she didn’t want to seem as if she didn’t take an interest in the Shepherds’ past.  Most of the conversations that night detailed certain relationships between members—Vaike’s mishaps with Chrom in their youth, Sully’s fiery rivalry with Stahl, stories of Frederick scolding the whole lot during certain training sessions.

They were a family. 

For a moment, a warm smile actually appeared on her face, even if they were discussing Vaike’s failed attempt at laying with a woman that resulted in the destruction of a village stable (to which, it seemed, Chrom had to intervene and make sure all of the animals got out safely).  The whole group reminisced on these happier times, and their cheerful demeanor warmed the cold halls of Regna Ferox.

If only Robin could share her own stories.

If only she could remember.

“I’m all out,” Vaike whined as he tipped his stein over, “where’s Sumia? She said she was bringing more.”

“Give her time,” Chrom said, “you know how-”

A few shakes and a wobble, speak of the devil, Sumia had already tripped for the third time in trying to bring the others their refills. 

“Shoot!” she yelped, “Not again!”

“I got you.” Chrom immediately got up from the table, grabbing the tray from her grasp with one hand and bracing himself against her to keep her steady, “You alright? How many times have you tried—oh.”

He looked off to see several steins on the floor…

“Thank you, Captain.” She huffed, “I’m sorry!”

“Sumia, please, don’t be.” He chuckled, “Thanks for offering to do this for us.”

“There she is!” Vaike called out, “Hey, speakin’ of rendezvous at the stables, this time reminds me of when I walked in on you guys. You looked just like you do now!”

Chrom and Sumia both looked at each other, Chrom noticing the woman leaning against his side with her hand gripping his tunic for support.  Sumia’s entire face lit up red, while Chrom simply looked at her with a bit of confusion.

“Ahh, yes, and I quite remember Cordelia being with you at the time as well, Vaike.” Miriel said as she turned a page in her book, seemingly distancing herself from the conversation as much as she could, “Interesting how that played out for you.”

“We weren’t on a date or anything!” Vaike growled, “But she sure saw _their_ date.  Took me about twenty minutes to get her out of the closet she locked herself into.”

“Date!?” Sumia yelped,

“I was helping her with her lance work, and in exchange she was showing me a few pointers with horses, that’s all.” Chrom explained—but was his face red from the beer, or from embarrassment?  Vaike couldn’t tell the difference, and he simply laughed aloud,

“Yeah, I’m sure you showed her some lance work alright!”

Chrom cocked his brow in confusion, but at that point Sumia was already on the floor, covering her face in embarrassment. Nay, she was mortified.

“Guys,” Chrom huffed, “c’mon, I think we’re done here with that.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, Sumia.” Vaike said, “C’mon, have a seat next to Teach, I’ll let you have some of this mutton jerky they served us.”

“You’re really gonna offer a lady ‘meat’ as an apology?” Sully scoffed, “You’re a piece of work.”

“What? You want me to offer _flowers_ or something?”

Virion smirked at that comment, his eyes flashing to Chrom and then back to his own drink.  Shaking his head, Chrom sat the drinks down on the table and began to pass them out.  He had requested one on Robin’s behalf, hoping that she would have been done with her meeting soon so that she could join them.  Taking the vessel, he turned towards where he last saw her,

“Hey, Robin, here’s-”

…

Her seat was empty.  

 


	11. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom wishes to see Robin smile again. Things get extremely awkward.

The camp was absolutely bustling the first afternoon the Shepherds were able to enjoy the familiar warmth of Ylisse once more.  While the Feroxian army was still acclimating itself to the dry planes as opposed to their snowy, cold, and hilly tundra, Chrom and Frederick agreed to allow the company a day of rest before their final march to Ylisse.  Chrom couldn’t help but to wonder what was in store for his country afterwards—were they to go to war with Plegia? Emmeryn wouldn’t condone that, but even Frederick admitted that bringing in outside help might agitate the current king to the west. 

“Let’s hope that’s not the case, alright?” Chrom muttered as he continued to scratch his pen along the surface of the parchment before him, “Emm doesn’t need a war on her hands.  She doesn’t deserve the ire of our people, _again_.”

“I understand this, Milord. But I caution you, and I’m sure Phila has cautioned her as well, that any form of resistance on our side will anger the Mad King regardless.  It is not that I am saying that you and Lady Emmeryn are in the wrong, for I am aware you both care deeply for Ylisse. However, war…might seem inevitable.”

“We’ll figure out a way.” Chrom sighed, waving his hand over the parchment to let the ink dry, “I’m afraid to bring Robin into this, though. But she might have some good input on this, don’t you think?”

“Hardly.” Frederick scoffed, “She’s an able tactician, yes, but I can tell that, that woman has not seen war, Milord.”

“Frederick…”

“Milord, I have watched her during every battle we’ve fought since leaving Ylisse.  Each time she has failed to keep you out of harm’s way.  In the arena she _watched_ you take on that masked man alone.  I fear she has other plans in store for you.”

“Frederick, you’re wary as always, and I appreciate that. But, I think you’re being too overly-cautious of Robin.  Yes, she’s made a few errors, but she’s also not my babysitter.  No one is, not even you.  All of the blades I’ve taken to my own body have been to my fault, and my fault alone.”

He wouldn’t even mention how Frederick himself was supposed to be guarding him, for he knew such a comment would cause his knight to become even _more_ cautious.  He took his job a little too seriously—Chrom remembered the last time Lissa blamed an ankle injury on Frederick’s lack of awareness, to which Frederick started cleaning up all sorts of debris around camp to avoid an injury of that sort ever again. 

The stalwart knight straightened himself, one hand behind his back and the other outstretched towards his lord,

“Shall I deliver that letter to our messenger?”

“I thank you.” Chrom said as he folded the parchment up and placed it upon Frederick’s iron claw, “Let them know Emm needs to see this as soon as possible. The only other person allowed to handle it is Phila.”

“Aye.” Frederick bowed and took his leave from Chrom’s quarters, to which the prince propped his elbows on the table and ran his fingers through his hair.  He grunted in frustration, understanding the consequences of Ylisse’s actions with their Feroxian alliance.  Though if he didn’t make that choice, then what would Plegia have done?  At the very least on their continent alone, it was two nations against one.  Still, Regna Ferox didn’t appear to be the type to go all out in a war that wasn’t particularly theirs to begin with.  They lacked the history Ylisse had with its westward neighbors…  

“We’ll be fine.” He said to himself as he left his tent. As usual, the Shepherds were out and about doing various tasks—collecting firewood, socializing, training, reading, whatever they chose to do to keep themselves occupied.  It’d been a moment since Chrom had a free afternoon, the last couple of days were spent hunched over a desk with Feroxian officials discussing formations and the like.  Robin was there, too, albeit once again extremely quiet and cold towards Chrom.  He stopped in his tracks for a moment, pondering the events of the last few days in order to figure out what exactly was wrong with her.  Everything was fine once they cleared the arena, but after the dinner party Chrom found it difficult to catch her and ask her if she was ok.  Whenever they had a free moment, one of them was called by another to assist in some way.  Even after their meeting with the other commanders the previous night, Robin hastily went back to her tent without so much as saying ‘good night’ to her captain.

What did he do now?

“Gods damn it.” He muttered to himself, “I need to speak with her again. I hate seeing her like this…and feeling like this.  Right, she told me just to tell her ‘sorry’ if anything else happened.  No flowers.”

But where could she have been?  He didn’t know where to start looking, and he dare not make the attempt to check her tent in the event she wished for privacy.  But he looked around, perhaps catching a glimpse of her familiar cloak or hearing her distinct voice amongst the normal babble of the army. 

“That woman!” a gruff voice hissed as he approached Chrom, to which the captain forced his attention to none other than their recent recruit, Lon’Qu, Basilio’s ex-champion. 

“Lon’Qu? Is something amiss?” Chrom asked, holding a hand out to stop the angered man before him. Yet the swordsman veered away, shoulder tensing at the thought of explaining his conundrum to his new commander, “Hey-”

“It’s that tactician.” He huffed, “Who throws figs at a man? FIGS!”

Come to think of it, Chrom did notice the stains upon the myrmidom’s cloak,

“Did Robin assault you with…fruit?”

“And she was smiling the entire time,” Lon’Qu hissed, “now I have to train. Far away from her.”

Again he shrugged Chrom off, going off towards the woods and leaving the captain in a bout of confusion. 

But what really struck him was the thought of Robin’s smile…something he hadn’t seen for a couple days.  Reflexively he balled his fist against his side, taking a quick turn towards the training grounds.  An odd feeling overcame him—the thought of Lon’Qu eliciting a smile from his tactician, for some reason, made him feel the need to throw his sword at something.  Perhaps it was his own frustration towards himself, for it seemed that he could do nothing but bring sadness to her visage. 

He missed that friendly smile.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about it, all the way to the designated training area that they had marked off the day before.  The usual bout of Shepherds were already there, throwing their sparring swords and lances against each other with playful banter here and there.  Chrom eyed a lonesome dummy in the corner, a perfect target to take his frustrations out on.  His hand went to the hilt of Falchion, ready to take a running start at the inanimate object.

But her laughter stopped him in his tracks.

She was there.

And so the lord quickly turned on his heel, sliding a bit in the dirt with nothing to brace himself against and causing him to trip over himself a little. Very smooth.

But she didn’t seem to notice; nay, the source of Robin’s laughter was none other than in reaction to her conversational partner’s words—Virion.  That sly dog.  He was leaning against one of the training dummies, waving his hands before him as he spoke with a friendly smirk upon his features.  Robin was facing away from Chrom, so the prince only made eye contact with his fellow nobleman.  Of course, Virion noticed the prince almost immediately.  He gave him a sly wink before bringing his attention back to Robin to finish his joke. 

Why did the lord’s skin feel like it was on fire?

“Captain! Look out!”

Yet it was too late, a blunt wooden spear struck Chrom’s pauldron with a loud clang.  Shocked by the sudden strike, he stepped back a few inches, disoriented and holding his arm as if he had actually been struck by a real weapon. 

“I’m sorry!” Sumia called out as she ran towards him, “I-I was practicing my javelin toss! Are you alright?!”

“I-I’m fine, Sumia.” Chrom said, shifting his armor back into place, “Please watch where you’re aiming, though. That could have hit my head.”

“Is your shoulder alright!? Oh my gosh, that’s the one that got dislocated from my Pegasus! Let me help you!”

Chrom was about to respond, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed something off-putting.  Virion’s hand held a wisp of his tactician’s hair, a finger trailing dangerously close to her jawline.  But the tactician was no longer facing Virion, nay, she turned to Chrom.  They locked gazes for a brief moment—nay, it felt like an uncomfortable minute of simply staring at each other. 

_It’s not what you think…_

Both veered away from each other, going in opposite directions—Chrom towards the training dummy, Robin back to her tent, leaving Virion and Sumia to look upon one another with confusion.

“W-what happened there?” Sumia asked, gripping her makeshift javelin in her palms, “They just stormed off…”

Virion shook his head, running his fingers along his hairline with a small smirk,

“My dear flower, it appears that you and I were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

* * *

 

“Hey,” Chrom said as he approached Robin, as casually as he could, “do you have a moment?”

He had caught her leaving the mess tent, apple in hand with battle plans tucked underneath her arm.  She had every intention to avoid him at all costs, yet he caught her when she assumed he had already eaten and left.  But to her dismay, Chrom had actually _waited_ outside of the tent for her, for how long? Only the Gods would know. 

“What?” she asked softly, “We’ve had our discussion about tactics already. I don’t have much else to really report to you, Chrom.”

“No, it’s not that.” He said, calmly, “About earlier-”

“Please.” She stepped back for a moment, “I don’t-”

“And the other day-”

“Chrom.” Her voice shook, “Please, I don’t want to speak of it.”

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze falling to the ground for he was at a loss of what to say to her.  The sound of her feet shuffling along the dirt indicated that their conversation was over; she was walking away from him.  Yet the lord stood firm, and even after biting his lip for a moment he turned towards her direction without a second thought and called out,

“Wanna go for a walk?”

…

“Excuse me?” she asked, stopping in her tracks, “I’m sorry, did you just-”

“A walk. To clear our heads.” He explained, “You and I…we’ve got a bit on our plate now, yeah?  Why don’t we just take a moment to ourselves?”

“But-” she looked around, “What about Frederick? Why can’t he just accompany you?”

“Robin, I’m afraid I can’t make this any clearer.  I just want to spend some time with _you_.”

She kept her thoughts to herself, her own envy eating away at the back of her head as she wanted to blurt out if his preference would have been with a certain flying knight.  She held her notes closer to her chest, her quickened pulse causing an ache in her head—it was so loud. Why couldn’t she keep calm?   

“Fine.” She blurted out, “Perhaps…Perhaps I really am in need of some clarity.”

“I know these woods,” he explained, “Frederick would take Vaike, Stahl, and myself out here to train when we were younger.”

Her shoulders relaxed,

“Oh?” she asked, “Well…could you tell me more, then, as we walk?”

He exhaled, just then realizing he had held his breath waiting for her response.  Gladly. Gladly would he tell her his story as she stood by his side.

“Did you want to drop those off?” he asked, eyes darting down to the scrolls pinned against her chest,

“I’ll be fine to carry them.” She replied, “Perhaps I could give you a bit of a preview of some plans that I have? If you’d like.”

“If you want to.” He shot back with a grin, “C’mon, there’s a place close to here that I think you’d like.”

“If you remember.” She said with a sly smirk, “You _did_ say you used to come out here during your _youth_ , right?”

“H-hey, how old do you think I am?” he coughed, “My ‘youth’ wasn’t that long ago, you know?”

“Really, now?” Robin asked, taking his side and strolling along with him, “I question your age, Captain.  But come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shadow along your jaw.”

“H-hey!” he huffed, cheeks turning red, “That’s—that’s just because Frederick demands that I keep it clean.  Supposedly that’s what a ‘prince’ should look like.”

“But have you ever _tried_ to grow a beard?” Robin teased,

“Yes!” Chrom huffed, “….Frederick just…shaved it off in my sleep. It kinda freaked me out when I woke up without my stubble, though.”

This caused Robin to snicker—no, she outright chortled at the mere thought of Frederick sneaking in to Chrom’s tent and having the dexterity to shave his face without so much as waking the prince.  Amazing. Yet, not as amazing as Chrom felt upon seeing her smile.  Finally, he got her to smile.  Even her laugh caused his heart…to flutter.  It was so pure. He couldn’t help but to grin in seeing his friend so…relaxed.

Chrom could see her tension in her stance, how she held her battle plans to her chest, how her jaw appeared taut.  Oblivious as he may have been to her emotions, there were times where the lord could easily read his tactician’s body language.  Even looking her in the eye, as they fought on the battlefield, Chrom could communicate with her in silence. 

“Is there something in my hair?” she asked.

He blinked a few times—had he been staring? Gods, what were they talking about? Why would Robin have something in her hair?

“No.” he said, “Sorry, I guess I spaced out a little.”

“That makes sense why you didn’t react to that branch whipping you in the back of your head.”

Her hand reached forward, causing Chrom to visibly tense as she grabbed a tangled twig that had made its way into his locks.  What had happened?  They were walking off the path, through the brush; that he remembered.  However, it seemed Chrom was too preoccupied with his thoughts to take in the fact that a young sapling he pushed aside swung back and him and his tactician. His body was completely on autopilot for the past few minutes.  He had prayed Robin hadn’t said anything she would quiz him on later. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Chrom, it’s fine.” She said with a smile, “You’re probably exhausted, anyway.  I’ll discuss my plans with you later, alright?”

“Sounds like a _plan_.”

Silence.

“Sorry.”

“No,” she snickered, “it’s fine.”

Finally the pair found a clearing in the brush, a small area most likely set as camp for loggers and foragers.  Chrom remembered the place vividly, for the tree stump in the middle served as his test when he was thirteen—cut down the tree and bring it back to camp.  He had the aid of Vaike and Stahl, but three young boys trying to drag a heavy log through the brush proved more than just a test of strength and endurance. 

“It was a rigorous team-building exercise,” Chrom explained, “to this day, I’m still certain Frederick packed up camp and moved it closer so we didn’t seem like a team of failures.”

“That’s really intense.” Robin commented as she approached the stump, running her hand along the clean cut, “Still, the three of you moved it all by yourself? From the looks of it, this tree was huge.”

“Aye.” He said, “But I didn’t want to brag about that. Look.” The lord pointed upwards to the sky, “You can see them clearer here than in Ylisse.”

Following his direction, Robin looked up to the sky, her gaze greeted with a fantastic view of the stars dotting the deep, dark blue sea that held the moon.  An audible gasp left her.  The trees almost perfectly framed the view, but before she could say anything Chrom had already flopped to the ground.

“Chrom?”

“It’s better like this.” He explained, placing his hands behind his head, “Our first night out here, we all laid here and just looked at the view—talked about stuff, truly just getting to know each other, you know?”

Robin stared at her captain just lazily lounging in the lush green without a care in the world.  Although he still donned his armor, the way he lay there made it seem as if he wasn’t a commander, let alone a warrior.  Just a normal young man trying to relax. 

“I-” she couldn’t find the words, but simply standing there made her feel incredibly awkward. The lord patted the earth beside him as he looked upon her with his usual friendly smile,

“C’mon.” he gestured to the open spot, “I promise, it’s much better like this.”

_You fool…_

“A-alright.”  Again, the tactician hesitated.  Yet against her better judgment, she took a spot next to Chrom and laid her head back to look at the stars.  The dazzling display left her speechless—nay, there was a familiar feeling tugging at her heart.  Had she been there before?  Was that another memory she failed to recover?

“That’s Ogma’s belt.” Chrom pointed out, “Right there, the brightest star is the buckle.”

“Have you studied astronomy?” Robin asked,

“I can’t say diligently.  I’m not a scholar, Robin.” Chrom admitted, “But, I’ve always liked looking at the night sky. Emm taught me the different constellations you can see in Ylisse—she would take Lissa and me out at night in the gardens to show us.”

“You’re very close with your sisters, aren’t you, Chrom?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I love my sisters dearly.  Emm practically raised Lissa and I.”

Robin chose not to press.  Instead, she smiled towards him before looking back up at the sky,

“Are there any others?” she asked curiously, “I see Ogma’s belt.  Is there anything closer to it?”

It took him a moment before he pointed to another set of stars, “They call that set over there the ‘Gemini Dragons’” he explained, “They say it’s Duma and Mila in their human form, touching hands.”

“Oh, let me see.”  Robin shifted a little, squinting at the stars with a furrowed brow.  Even a slight bit of her tongue stuck out, something she did when she was intensely concentrated. 

And that’s when Chrom’s eyes fell upon her once more. 

…the way the moon illuminated her features—light falling upon the tip of her nose, eyes shimmering as the galaxies which she faced reflected themselves in such amber innocence…he was not the poet, but the sight he witnessed before him…

“Beautiful.” Robin said,

“Yeah.” Chrom whispered, “Very beautiful.”

“Are there any others?” she asked.  As soon as she turned her head to him, Chrom had already faced the sky once more, looking for anything, _anything_ she would find intriguing,

“Uhh…let’s see…”

“Hey,” Robin said, “Chrom, can I admit something to you?”

Oh why was his heart beating so furiously?

“Yes, Robin?”

“Well,” she began, “as you know, I don’t have any memories of my own anymore. So, if you don’t mind, perhaps this is a moment I can cherish as a new memory?”

What sort of question was that!?

“Of course.” He said, “Of course, Robin. I understand your situation, and, if you don’t mind…I’d like to help you make new memories to cherish.  You’re a dear friend to me, and I want to help you in any way that I can.”

…

“Thank you, Chrom.” She said with a hushed tone, her hands then retreating back into her cloak upon realizing how dangerously close the tips of her fingers were to his, “You’re a dear friend to me as well.”

 


	12. Interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom wishes to act on his sudden feelings for Robin, yet the Shepherds are needed elsewhere other than Ylisstol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for your patience! Sorry that it took so long for an update. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Prince Chrom of Ylisse sat up from his bedroll the following morning.  Normally, Chrom would immediately reach for the coffee to his right as Frederick would _always_ sneak in and leave it there before he woke.  However, blue eyes fell on a quivering hand before darting to the soiled handkerchief tossed aside with the rest of his laundry.  He remember well what had occurred hours before—how he felt utter shame for his actions, how unbecoming it was of him to do what he did with his tactician in mind.

Yet as he saw Robin off to her tent the night before, the lord made way to his own and flopped down with a loud grunt—flushed face as he continued to linger on the idea of his tactician’s smile. Her gaze. Her…beauty. He cursed himself under his breath, repeating to himself in silence that Robin was his confidant, and to make matters worse, his underling.  But the later was merely for payroll, as the lord had always seen Robin as his equal.  But, still—Commander and tactician?  He let out another frustrated grunt before muttering ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath.  The need was too strong; strong enough to surpass his better judgment. No one would know.  Robin wouldn’t know. That was the important part.  Surely he was not the only man, not with how Virion looked upon her. But the shame never once left him as he exposed himself and whispered her name between heavy pants.  Before he could get a grasp of the situation, it was already over…

The prince placed his head in his hands, the smell of his morning coffee bringing him back to his senses.  First the dream, then his actions the night before.  He had spent hours with pretty women in his lifetime, even some handsome gentlemen, and not once did he act upon himself in such a selfish manner.

Until Robin…

Chrom grabbed the mug of coffee, pressing the rim to his lips to feel its warmth and wake his senses—it was still hot, Frederick had left it there not even ten minutes earlier.  Lissa probably had her tea.  Robin was most likely dragging herself to the mess to drink the same, lesser quality as the rest of the Shepherds.

If only he could share a cup with her…

“Perhaps,” he whispered to himself, “when we get back to Ylisse…I can ask her if she’d like to join me.  It wouldn’t be out of line of me to ask her then, would it?

...No, it’ll be fine.”

And thus the prince went on about his morning, dressing himself and preparing for the upcoming venture back to Ylisse.  It would take another day and a half to get there, and upon their arrival he could finally relax and shed the helm of ‘commander’ if but for a moment.  It was still new to him, having so many men and women under his watch.  Walking the grounds of camp with all eyes on him didn’t necessarily shake him, but rather, caused him to ponder his position. 

He wondered how much of a resemblance he had to his own father.

No. He would be better than that.

But the lord’s furrowed brow softened upon seeing Robin, who crossed paths with him once more on her way out from the mess.  He felt a smile tug at his lips upon seeing her, about to greet her for the morning until the flash in her eyes and her sweet smile reminded him of his sin the night before.  Instead his lips made a taught line, eyes locked on hers with a heat rising in his cheeks.  Her mere presence, somehow, made him feel uncomfortable.  He was outright _ashamed_ that the woman before him was the muse for his pleasure.  Right then and there he felt he could explode, all the air leaving his lungs and leaving him a heaving mess as he spewed out apologies to his tactician for touching himself and whispering her name.  He truly _was_ a degenerate.

_Robin is my friend. Robin deserves better than…this._

“Good morning, Robin.” He huffed, somehow keeping his cool despite the utter agony he felt being in her presence, “Sleep well?”

But the tactician had her own secret—her own licentious actions nearly mirrored his to the point that even she stood there with a taut line for lips and eyes nearly bulging out of her skull.  She did sleep well; well enough, in fact.  The minutes spent muttering her captain’s name while her fingers danced along her skin lulled her into the best sleep she felt she had had in weeks. 

“Yes.” She said, eyes darting to the ground, “That walk really cleared my head. Thank you, again.  It was a wonderful idea.”

Chrom, too, found his gaze to the dirt,

“Was it, now?” he asked, “Well, that’s fantastic, Robin.  I’m glad I could have helped ease your stress a little.”

She coughed as if she were choking, “Yep!” she wheezed.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll live.”

Still, neither of them could look the other in the eye.  And again, neither of them knew how to particularly end their conversation. 

“So,” he said, “are you well prepared for our march today?”

She simply gave a nod with a hoarse ‘mhm’.  Again, another moment of silence between the two.  To Chrom, it seemed as if Robin wasn’t one for conversation that morning.  But to Robin, Chrom had become an intimidating force, and she wondered if he saw right through her—as if he would have known her feelings towards him which she kept buried since realizing them in Regna Ferox. 

The tactician began to fidget with the fringe on her robes, while Chrom cleared his throat and began rubbing the back of his neck.  Again, it seemed that he failed to converse with Robin outside of tactics. 

Luckily, a distraction appeared.  Sumia had made her way over towards the captain and tactician, to which both brought their attention to her after hearing her metal armor clank as it so normally did. 

“Good morning, Captain! Good morning, Robin!” she said with a smile, “I’m here to report that all mounts are fed and ready to go!”

“Thank you, Sumia.”

Robin visibly took a step back,

“Also,” Sumia slowly turned herself towards the tactician, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Robin, if that’s ok?”

“Me?” Robin asked.  Sumia gave a quick nod before grasping the tactician’s arm,

“If you’ll excuse us, Captain.”

 

She was rather forceful, not quite understanding that her grip was much stronger than she had anticipated.  Robin surely would have a bruise on her arm to match Chrom’s,

“H-hey, Sumia, please, I can walk on my own!” she hissed.  But Sumia did not answer, nay, she didn’t even look at Robin until both women were in a safe space behind the convoy tent.  When Sumia released the tactician, she immediately twirled around and placed her fingertips to her own lips, hiding what appeared to be a gleeful grin.

“I’m sorry.” She giggled, “I didn’t want anyone else around while I was talking with you.”

“You could have just _asked_ me.” Robin muttered as she rubbed her arm, “Please, not so tight next time.”

“Sorry.” Sumia bowed slightly, “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.  But first, I want to know if you’re ok…”

…

“Yes?” Robin cocked her brow, “I’ve been in good health, aside from my arm now-”

“No, I mean, are you _ok?_ ” She asked once more, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed since I joined with you guys that you’ve been acting strangely…”

How was Robin to admit that she felt intimidated by her own friend?

“F-forgive me, Sumia.  It’s nothing against you, I promise.  It’s just me.  I think the stress of my position has been catching up to me.”

“I think it’s more than that…” Sumia replied, “You seem so sad.  I can see it when you’re around me or Chrom.”

_Gods, no.  I’ve made such an error and didn’t even realize it…!_

“What?” Robin waved her hands before her, “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I won’t pry,” Sumia said with a smile, “but I think I might have an idea.  Don’t tell me if I’m wrong or not, ok?”  the knight dusted off her skirt and cleared her throat, “I just want you to know, that I personally think you two should-”

“Hey! There you are!” Lissa yelped, her tiny blonde head peeking out from the other side of the convoy, “Chrom’s been looking for you, Robin!  It’s time to go—I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Lissa’s sudden appearance made the skittish Sumia to jump backwards, causing the woman to crash into the crate behind her and forcing Robin to grab at her own chest to stabilize her breathing. 

“D-don’t sneak up on people like that, Lissa.” Robin wheezed, “But no, no, everything’s fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Lissa whimpered, “If it means anything, I didn’t hear what you two were talking about.  I just heard voices and decided to investigate.  A-again, Chrom and Frederick are looking for you.”

Robin continued to glance between Lissa and Sumia,

“I’ll be fine.” Sumia hissed as she pressed her palm against her back, “I should get to my position as well.  W-we’ll talk later, ok?”

Hesitant to know what Sumia had to say, Robin gave a very subtle nod to the knight,

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

“So, what will our next plan of action be, Captain?” Robin asked as her horse trotted alongside Chrom’s.  He glanced over to her before putting his attention back towards the road,

“Well,” he began, “I’ve sent a letter off to Emm about our troops.  Once we make it back to Ylisstol we’ll have to hold a meeting to discuss what we plan to do from here.  Fortifying our border for the time being is my main plan of action.  I’d like to keep the brigands off of our soil for the time being.”

“And what after that?” Robin asked, “We have Feroxian Troops who have homes back north.  How long do we plan to keep them on guard duty?”

Chrom seemed hesitant to respond to her, but the look in her eyes matched that of his knight. He knew what she was going to ask next.

And his silence was telling to her.

“Chrom,” she said, veering her horse as close to his as she could so that their conversation would stay private, “…you know what this means, right?”

“…I have faith in my sister, Robin.” He replied, “We don’t—we can’t afford another war. Not now.  Not while Emmeryn has gained the people’s trust again.”

Robin brought her hose back to its normal position in the march, staring at Chrom with a befuddled brow yet keeping herself silent so as to not point out the utter flaw in his logic.  While most diplomatic relationships can be sown and grow peacefully in negotiation, from what Khan Flavia had told her previously…

 

…King Gangrel was utterly mad…and bent on destroying Ylisse at all costs.

 

_“He’s a psychopath alright,”_ Robin remembered Flavia explaining this to her over dinner one night, _“that man has been poking at Ylisse’s border since he came into power.  While he’s failed to show his face, many of his ‘troops’ have given Ylisse plenty of messages of their true intent.  Prince Chrom probably hasn’t divulged much with you about Ylisse’s history, but let’s just say some of the maddest men can reach out from the depths of poverty if they will it._

_But how often is their intent to make the world a better place?  It’s usually for revenge.  That man wants your leader dead, more than even allowing his country to prosper.  I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, tactician…”_

 

“I can only hope so, Chrom.” Robin said.

“I thank you for being by my side in the matter, Robin.  You’ve done a lot for us as is, and trust me, if it’s within my power, I wouldn’t dare wish you to be involved in a w—”

 

“Captain Chrom! Captain Chrom!”

 

A lone pegasus knight from above, hair of bright crimson flowing in the wind behind her as she hastily made way to the convoy below.  Immediately, Frederick pulled his steed to a halt, followed by Chrom, Robin, Lissa, and then the rest of the Shepherds.  Sumia had taken flight at the sight of the avian steed, weapon ready, but upon recognizing the rider she called out to the captain,

“It’s Cordelia, Captain!”

“Cordelia?” Chrom wondered aloud, “But she’s supposed to be with Phila.”

“Captain, I beg of you to reroute!” Cordelia cried out as she tried to ground her mount, “Please! You- You must! You must…!”

She seemed out of breath, panicked, as if something horrific had happened just up ahead.

“Calm down, Cordelia.” Frederick stated with a rather harsh tone, “Breath and then speak to Lord Chrom.”

Cordelia gasped before sitting up straight with her fist to her heart, “I bring news from Commander Phila.  It’s dire.”

“Speak.”

“King Gangrel’s forces have invaded our southwest border again.  They attacked a village in Themis.”

“Themis?” Lissa gasped, “That’s—that’s where Maribelle was headed after we left Ylisse.”

“I have grave news upon that subject.  The troops have captured the duke’s daughter, Milord.”

“Maribelle!?” Lissa screeched, “Oh no!”

“And it appears he is claiming that she crossed the border with her own troops, though as far as we know she had no plans to take any military action while on leave-”

“Chrom, we have to do something!” Lissa cried out, eyes filled with horror as she looked to her knight and brother, “Maribelle…she would never! She said she was visiting home for a bit-”

“Calm down, Lady Lissa,” Frederick did what he could to verbally ease her, but the cleric was notably a wreck.

“What of Emmeryn?” Chrom asked Cordelia,

“She plans to parlay with King Gangrel.” Cordelia explained, “Commander Phila tried to talk her out of it, but Exalt Emmeryn insisted she head to Themis straight away.  Commander Phila sent me to reroute your troops so that you may meet with her before the parlay.”

“Did she not receive my letter!?” Chrom yelped, “I-I told her to wait! She can’t go with only the pegasus knights!”

“She did receive it this morning, Milord. It’s why I was sent here.  Exalt Emmeryn wished for you to return to Ylisse, but Commander Phila needs your aid on this matter against the Exalt’s wishes. .”

“No, no no no!” Lissa wept, “Not Maribelle—Not Emm!”

“Easy, Lissa.” Robin reached for her shoulder, “We’ll see to it that your sister and friend are safe.”

“No.” Chrom looked back to Robin, “Robin, please lead the Shepherds and Feroxians back to Ylisstol.  Frederick and I will go to Themis.”

“I object.” Robin said firmly, “As your tactician, I advise that you take, at the very least, myself and a Shepherd squadron to Themis.  We have no idea what awaits us, or Exalt Emmeryn.  Do you understand?”

She watched as he visibly gritted his teeth—both his tactician and his little sister insisted that they join him.  But he couldn’t handle losing any of the three as they faced the claimed ‘mad king’. 

“Captain Chrom—”

“Fine.” Chrom hissed, “We’ll have Cordelia lead the Feroxian troops to Ylisstol for fortification.  Frederick, you, and myself will lead the Shepherds to Themis.  Lissa will accompany us as well.”

Robin smiled, her eyes lighting up as battle plans for an impending skirmish came to her in that very moment.  She would keep that in mind on the road southward. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Captain.” She replied, “We won’t let you, or the Exalt down. I promise.”


	13. Parallel War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeryn parleys with King Gangrel. Chrom's rash decision-making sparks a war between Ylisse and Plegia.

 

She insisted. She persisted.  The Exalt of Ylisse approached the Mad King Gangrel and his protégé (or was she a courtesan? That was unknown). She stood tall and firm, her younger brother and sister trailing behind her failing to mirror her strength.  Chrom’s eyes continued to dart amongst the hills, while Lissa’s blank, cold stare only showed her weakening will.  Maribelle was nowhere in sight, just the lanky figure of a snickering king stood before them atop a boulder.  Gangrel’s sinister smile crept along his features, teeth bared and eyes locking upon the Exalt. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Exalt herself in the flesh. How…exciting.  And she brought the princeling with her.  Dare say, did my accusations of assault upon _my_ realm spur the need for dogs to be brought along?  A pity.”

He began to snicker, leaning forward with his gangly fingers threading themselves through his blood-red goatee.  He took a good look at Chrom before going back to Emmeryn.  Emmeryn folded her hands before her in a relaxed manner, while Chrom and Lissa noticeably shifted their stances into a more defensive position. 

“King Gangrel of Plegia, I have agreed to parley with you on this day.” Emmeryn began, “I am here to discuss with you the accusations that a Themis noblewoman under the protection of House Ylisse was caught crossing your boarder with the intent of military action.  Before we begin, I wish to see the lady unharmed.”

“You make such demands from someone so powerless in their position, you know?” Gangrel sneered, “I am appalled that such mockery of our boarders has been exemplified through this brat.  This is an insult to our treaty, and we request reparations from Ylisse”

“Reparations?” Lissa hissed, “What?”

“King Gangrel,” Emmeryn began, still as calm as ever, “please show to us that Lady Maribelle is unharmed.”

“Fine. Fine.” He leaned back in a dramatic fashion, curling his finger to beckon his partner, Aversa, to bring forth the axe-wielding soldier who held a writhing sack over his shoulder.  Aversa snapped her fingers, and the soldier dropped the bag on the ground.  The sultry woman then approached the lump and ripped the cloth away from the body, revealing Maribelle bound and silenced in a heap on the ground.

“Maribelle!” Lissa screeched.  Chrom threw his arm across her to stop her from sprinting towards the young woman.  Maribelle’s eyes were wide open as she stared at her friend in horror.

“I had to gag her.” Aversa explained, “She was making such a fuss.”

“Release her!” Lissa cried out, “Let her go! Let her go! Maribelle would never do that!”

“Explain yourself!” Chrom called out,

“Excuse me?” Gangrel cocked a brow, “What am I to explain?  _Your_ noblewoman crossed into _my_ territory. You must do the explaining now, Exalt.  Oh, and keep your dogs down, I can barely hear your voice with their incessant screeching.”   

Emmeryn only looked back at Chrom and Lissa for a moment before she took one step forward,

“King Gangrel,” she began once more, “As you are aware, Ylisse is not a country made of gold.  We’ve little to give in reparations, but-”

“Emm!” Chrom coughed.

Yet Gangrel cackled, a laugh so foul it sent a shiver down Chrom’s spine, “ _Gold!?_ Please.  Plegia has all the gold in the world.  No, no…we want something else.  Something priceless.  Then, maybe we won’t partake in a _public_ execution of your noblewoman.”

“What is it that you seek?”

“Emmeryn!”

“The dog calls for you.” Gangrel rolled his eyes, yet straightened when he decided to make his demands, “I want…the Fire Emblem.  House Ylisse’s treasure.  The bringer of fortune and giver of wishes.  That hunk of bronze will do.”

Emmeryn closed her eyes, furrowing her brow. “King Gangrel, the Fire Emblem is to be used when our world is at its darkest hour-”

“But, _it is_ at this very moment!” he cackled, “You damned Ylisseans are the bane of every halidom’s existence.  With the Fire Emblem in my possession, the world will become a better place as Ylisse burns to the ground.  After what your father did to my people, it is the only just way!”

“No.” Emmeryn stated firmly, “Our realm is that of peace now.  We have learned from our father’s mistakes.  Ylisse wants nothing more than to see that this realm is that of peace and prosperity for all—”

“You are nothing more than the pawn shielding your father’s rebirth!” Gangrel explained. He pointed to Chrom, “Look at that boy!  He can’t even sit through a negotiation without wanting to draw his sword.  How am I, the leader of Plegia, supposed to feel at ease with this raging war monger before me?  He appears to be seconds away from calling upon another _meaningless crusade_ against my people.  Well, I won’t have it.”

“That’s enough!” Chrom said, “Let Maribelle go and leave our soil at once.  I won’t ask again.”

Gangrel simply laughed, “Did you ask? That sounded like more of a demand.  Then, I shall make a demand as well:  Give me the Fire Emblem, or I will take it from your cold, dead, hands.”

Maribelle began to thrash about once more, leaving the Plegian soldier no choice but to hold the blade of his axe to her head.  Meanwhile, several other soldiers revealed themselves from the brush, armed, and slowly approaching the Exalt and her siblings. 

“King Gangrel, please reconsider.” Emmeryn pleaded, “With a war, the people of both halidoms will suffer. Do you want this!?”

…

But before Gangrel could answer, the sound of steel clashing against steel rang through the small valley of Themis.  A man began to choke on his own blood, while another lay dead with the sacred sword of House Ylisse firmly planted between his shoulder blades.  Chrom placed his boot on the corpse, yanking Falchion from its victim and cleaning off the blade with a quick flick. 

Two Plegian soldiers lay dead before the Exalt of Ylisse and the King of Plegia…

“…Now that's a declaration of war if I've ever heard one... A big, messy war that will bleed you Ylisseans dry.” Gangrel snickered, “What do you think, Aversa?”

Aversa gave him a subtle nod, yet her own lips curled into that of a smile, “Yes, milord. It certainly is.  The prince of Ylisse spilled Plegian blood; such an act of aggression.”

“I suppose that settles it then.  It was a good thing I came prepared.  You see, I didn’t feel safe within the borders of Ylisse.  I knew well that someone in the _holy_ family would try to strike me down.  I suppose we shall mourn the loss of our two martyrs here.  But for now, good luck, Exalt.  I hope you enjoy your swift death as we march on Ylisstol and kill. Every. Last. Subject.”

Gangrel turned on his heel, snapping his fingers to signal to the solider to behead Maribelle.  Averse gave Maribelle a tiny pat on the head,

“Don’t worry, deary.  Your name will go down in the books as the piece that brought Ylisse to its ruin.”

Maribelle’s screech was audible from behind her gag, the soldier swiftly pressed his knee to her back to lower her head for his strike.

Lissa began to sprint towards her childhood friend, only to be yanked away by her sister as the two of them made their escape from the gorge.  Lissa fought against her sister’s grasp, but Emmeryn’s strength was enough to tear the young woman’s heels from the dirt. 

“I’m not losing you.” Emmeryn said aloud, “I’m not losing either of you.”

* * *

 

Thankfully, Robin foresaw this action.  Everything was too suspicious—Gangrel, a _madman_ wishing for a peaceful parley? It was a trap all along.  While she didn’t suspect that _Chrom_ would be the one to begin the war, she did warn the Exalt and made sure that an efficient escape route could be planned.

 

“I figured that would be the case,” Emmeryn said to Robin after the tactician had requested her private presence at their meeting point, “It would be foolish of me to expect otherwise of Gangrel.”

“I don’t want to stir anything with Chrom or Lissa, but Frederick and I smell war all over this, your Grace.”

“Aye.” Frederick admitted, “And…it is undoubtedly unavoidable.”

“I am aware.” Emmeryn stated.

“I thank you for giving my plan a chance, Lady Emmeryn.” Robin said with a bow,

“You got Chrom and Lissa in and out of Regna Ferox unharmed. I trust in your wisdom, Robin.”

“So long as Lady Emmeryn is able to escape, I, too, trust in your plan, tactician.” Phila chimed in as she went over the hastily-scribbled plans Robin had drawn out for them. 

“Thank you.”

“But do we have a backup plan?” Frederick added, “If in the event it fails?”

“We don’t have time.” Robin admitted, “Gangrel expects to meet with Lady Emmeryn within the hour. It’s all I have.”

“Pathetic.” Frederick said with a hush.  Robin heard that, yet she chose to keep firm in her decision.  Emmeryn softly sighed as she fixed her headpiece,

“I shall parley with King Gangrel with Chrom and Lissa.  Please, do what you can to keep the two of them safe at the very least.”

“I will.” Robin held her fist to her heart, “Lord Chrom and Lady Lissa will be under mine and Frederick’s care.”

Frederick rolled his eyes.

“I will rally my knights to bring Lady Emmeryn to safety through the back rout as you suggested, tactician.  We will rendezvous at the indicated spot once we’ve made our retreat.”

“Thank you.” Robin said once more, “I’ll get our Shepherds stationed to blockade the Plegian army’s movement.  We’ll dwindle them down to a retreat, giving us enough time to fall back with Maribelle in tow.”

“Very well.” Emmeryn said, “It has been decided.”

* * *

 

Yet there were more than four people in that conversation.  A young man who smuggled himself away in the Shepherds’ supply cart during their pit stop in central Themis.  He had hid himself away in the Exalt’s supply cart upon hearing of Maribelle’s demise.  Chrom wouldn’t allow him to join on the expedition to Regna Ferox, but the young mage Ricken knew his magical prowess would be an asset to the Shepherds.  And indeed it was, for his nosey personality helped in the aid of Maribelle’s escape.

 

As the axe swung down at the noble’s neck, a burst of wind offset the soldier and caused him to fall off the side of the swell he stood upon.  It only incapacitated him for a moment, but it was just enough time for Chrom to head in his direction while the young mage sprinted to Maribelle’s side to undo her bindings.

As soon as her gag left her mouth, the noblewoman began to scream in frustration at Chrom. 

“You brute!” she yelped, “You fool! You-You-You!!!”

“Hey!” Ricken hissed, “C’mon, you can’t draw attention to yourself right now!”

“He started a _war_!” Maribelle screeched, “He should have held his blade! They should have let me die!”

“C’mon!” Ricken hissed once more while grasping her wrist, “There’s an escape route this way! We need to get you out of here!”

“I won’t be leaving the battlefield just yet!” she fought back, “Where is Lissa!?”

“Lissa?” Ricken gulped, “Ah?? She went off with Lady Emmeryn.”

Maribelle shoved Ricken aside and headed towards the spot where she last saw them, assuming that was the escape route Ricken told her about.  With a soft sigh, the young mage followed her, leaving the rest of the soldiers to veer in on the prince.

Yet he was all but abandoned.  From atop the crag came a rain of arrows and javelins, scattering the soldiers to allow Chrom some breathing room.  Then came Sully, Stahl, and Frederick, all rushing in to clear Chrom’s flanks with swords in hand to counter their axes. 

“Frederick? Sully? Stahl!?” Chrom wheezed, flabbergasted by the sudden emergence of his knights, “How did you get here so quickly?”

He started to back up as another soldier took a running start towards him, brandishing his blade in defiance of Ylisse’s code of peace.  This was war.  He—he had to kill. He had no choice but to kill.  He barely realized how his hands and tunic were covered in the blood of _three_ Plegian soldiers—and that was only the beginning.  This was _his_ war, now. 

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered, “Emm…Lissa…Robin-”

“Watch your flanks!”

Chrom sidestepped a hand-axe thrown in his direction, but that wasn’t what he was urged to watch.  He felt a yank on the back flap of his tunic, forcing himself to fall backwards as a sword nearly slice his neck open.  As the lord fell to the ground, he heard a loud scream as the soldier before him writhed on the ground in a heap of flames.  The smell of burning flesh was most foul, and he had to roll over and dry heave onto blood-stained dirt below him. 

“Robin,” he wheezed, eyes catching the golden trim on her boots, “Robin, thank you-”

“Get up!” she demanded, yanking once more on his bib, “We can’t retreat on foot. We have to take them all out!” Her outstretched hand erupted into flames, and with a swift wave a wall of fire burst not even three feet before the pair, cutting off any advancing soldiers, “Chrom! Get up!”

Immediately the lord scrambled to his feet, “What’s going on? Where’s Emm!? Where’s Lissa!?”

“Safe, for now.” Robin explained as she dropped the burning tome, “We’re holding off their vanguard while Phila evacuates them.  But they won’t get far if they follow us.  We have to leave no survivors…”

No survivors…

These men and women…they weren’t brigands. They were soldiers fighting for their homeland.  They were trained specifically to kill—not raid, not burn, but to annihilate any Ylissean who stood in their way.  Chrom glared at his shimmering blade, his reflection mirroring that of an older gentleman with a similar facial structure. 

“No.” he growled, “No! This is a defensive war!”

“What are you talking about?!” Robin yelped, “Chrom, look out!”

The lord pivoted to the right, dodging an axe attack from behind with enough momentum to plant Falchion into the soldier’s arm, severing it completely.  The soldier fell to his knee, yet he yanked a stray dagger from his belt loop with his free hand.  Before it even so touched Chrom’s leg, an iron sword pierced its way through the soldier’s body, right above his collarbone. 

“Chrom, I can’t keep doing this for you!” Robin coughed, twisting the sword into the corpse before yanking it out, “Watch my back while I prepare a new tome; I can’t fight with just a blade, and you know this.”

He stared at her sword with wide eyes in disbelief that Robin could so easily and mercilessly kill an injured man.  Then again, it was in defense of her liege—had she hesitated, Chrom would have been stabbed and infected with whatever poison might have been laced on that soldier’s steel blade. 

“Right,” Chrom grunted, gripping the hilt of his blade tighter than he had ever held it before.  Robin snaked behind him, bending down to unlatch her tome from her belt.  While she was prepared for the impeding Plegian attack, she didn’t realize how oblivious Chrom would have been at the time she retrieved him.  Making a wall of fire depleted her cheaply-made tome, and all she had left was a gift from Flavia.

“Elthunder.” She whispered, “Precision. Power. The channeled magic leaves the fingertips instead of the palm of fire and the back-hand of wind.  Weak in cover, deadly on-target…”

She had never used it before, so unfortunately the tactician needed time to study the text before unleashing its power. 

“How long is this gonna take?” Chrom asked over his shoulder, “We’ve got Wyverns in the air, Robin!”

She began muttering whatever text was on the page—an unintelligible language from what Chrom could hear.  Gritting his teeth, the prince stood his ground as a lance-wielding flier dove down onto him and his tactician.  Virion’s arrows unfortunately missed at every shot, and Chrom had no choice but to take the mount first.

A battle cry exploded from the young lord’s throat, divine steel whizzing through the air and slicing the Wyvern’s head clean off.  The lance in the soldier’s hand only graze Chrom’s shoulder on impact due to the momentum of the dying dragon’s flailing body forcing him off-balance.  There was no need for neither Chrom nor Robin to deal the finishing blow, for the body skidded to the ground with the rider still latched on—the impact broke his neck. 

“Robin,” he muttered upon seeing three myrmidons approaching him with blades at the ready, “…Robin? Is that thing ready yet-?”

“God of middle thunder, guide my hand!” His tactician called out, all five fingers ridged and extended towards the foes before them.  A flash of light blinded him, yet he knew the skirmish was over when he heard all three bodies drop to the ground in twitching, smoldering heaps.  His blue eyes gazed upon Robin’s outstretched hand, which radiated some form of magical electrical pulse around it. 

“…Three…” Chrom wheezed, “You—you took on all three-”

“Milord! The Plegians are retreating! Head south for the hillside!”

The sound of Frederick’s panicked screams took him out of his trance.  Robin’s shaking hand griped his wrist as she began to sprint in that direction—the electrical pulse continued to linger, and while it didn’t necessarily hurt…

…something about it felt eerily familiar to him.

“Keep moving, keep moving,” Robin huffed, “I know it hurts. I know it—just keep moving!”

Chrom didn’t even realize his injury until Robin pointed it out, eyes falling to the tear in his uniform and the slice across his exposed shoulder. 

“Robin,” he muttered, “Robin, Gods, what happened? What-?”

“It’s war, Chrom.” She said firmly, “I’m sorry…but Plegia has now declared war on Ylisse…”


	14. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeryn calls a meeting between herself, Phila, Robin, Frederick, and Chrom. War looms over Ylisse, and Emmeryn suggests that Robin be officially enlisted as Chrom's tactician and therefore the head tactician of the Ylissean army. Chrom and Frederick, however, do not take lightly to this promotion for different reasons.

“We will have no choice at this point but to call council.” Emmeryn explained, slowly pacing back and forth with sweat beading upon her brow, “There’s very little time to waste now, I fear.  While it will take days for Gangrel to march upon Ylisstol...our people, our farmers, our shepherds, our ranchers will be the first to fall if we do not act immediately.”

“Your Grace, please,” Phila stepped forward, hands still crossed behind her back as usual, “you cannot overwork yourself like this. We’ve a long journey home before you must present this news to our court.”

“Phila is correct,” Frederick pointed out, “With the Pegasus Knights, you’ve a day’s journey to consider your words.”

“Longer,” Chrom grunted from where he sat.  Once the Shepherds convened with Emmeryn, Lissa, and Phila, Emmeryn corralled them all into the tactics tent for discussion.  Yet, she had urged Lissa to take their brother to seek out medical attention.  However, Chrom refused, insisting that if he had to sit in on council meetings in Ylisstol, he surely had to sit in on this meeting.

…not only that, but he was the one to start the war…

“You can’t hold council without me,” he muttered, “and it’ll take us three days to return to Ylisstol.”

“This is not a matter that we can simply sit on,” Emmeryn replied,

“No, you’re right, but I’m not gonna let you stand before them alone.” Chrom growled, “I’m—I’m not going to let them do that to you again-”

“Lord Chrom,” Frederick interrupted, “it might be in your best interest to stay low for now, especially with your injury-”

“It’s nothing.” Chrom shot back, coldly, “I’ll be fine once Maribelle finishes that salve.” Robin, who stood silently at one end of the room, eyed the blood-stained rag that Chrom kept held against his shoulder.  Unfortunately, Lissa’s healing magic wasn’t potent enough to close a full wound, only strong enough to heal cuts, scrapes, and apparently dislocated shoulders.

“We are terribly off-topic.” Phila said sternly, “Your Grace, what actions do you wish for us to take?”

Emmeryn stopped in her tracks, “I must return to Ylisstol at once,” she began, “I must inform the others of the court as well as our people that a war with Plegia looms above us once again.  I would like Chrom and Lissa to return to Ylisstol at their own pace, to which we will hold war council and discuss our next line of strategy.” She then turned to Robin, soft eyes hardening as they met the tactician’s gaze, “I request that our new tactician be present for that as well.”

“Me?” Robin asked, softly, “L-Lady Emmeryn-”

Chrom jerked forward,

“Absolutely n-”

Emmeryn held her hand up to Chrom, yet her eyes never left Robin,

“Yes.  You proved yourself to me today with how you handled our escape.  I wish to receive your guidance.”

“Your Grace,” Frederick coughed, “she is but a mere street performer!”

“Give her a chance, Lieutenant.” Phila said, “…even I couldn’t have managed to formulate a plan and execute it as such.  She might not have a name for herself, but if the Exalt wishes to have her within our council, then you shall not dismiss it.”

Frederick immediately stepped back to his own regret—the man was vehemently against Robin taking a position as crucial as grandmaster of the army, surely someone in Ylisse was trained enough to take on that helm. 

However, Emmeryn knew deep down that Ylisse lacked any sort of tactical prowess after her father’s last war.  At that point, Robin knew the main vanguard of the army better than anyone else. 

“Do you accept?” Emmeryn asked Robin.  Robin clenched her jaw, seeing the horror fill Chrom’s eyes out of her peripheral and feeling Fredericks judging gaze at the back of her head.  Was she really in the position to decline?  It was a favor requested of the Exalt of Ylisse—Robin knew of only three territories: Plegia, Ylisse, and Regna Ferox.  Plegia would not be safe for her, and it seemed as if their king was, indeed, quickly going mad.  Regna Ferox to the north seemed to be the safest choice—a place where she could hide. Where she could study…

 

…but none of that mattered.  It was Chrom who found her.  It was Chrom who adopted her into his militia.  She could never turn her back on him, let alone his elder sister and her country. 

“I pledge my allegiance to Ylisse,” Robin stated as she took a knee, hand over her heart, “I accept the position of being Ylisse’s tactician.  I will follow under your instruction and do whatever I can to protect your people. You have my word.”

“Robin!” Chrom hissed, “Listen to me, you can’t-”

“She has made her choice, Chrom.” Emmeryn shot back, “A choice which I know will benefit our people.  Robin will be our high deliverer—our advisor and lead tactician.”

“Shall she accompany us to Ylisstol, your grace?” Phila asked.

“If I may,” Robin said as she rose to her feet, “I wish to stay with Chrom and Lissa for the time being, if that’s alright.”

Emmeryn broke a small smile, “Of course.  For now, I must take my leave with Phila.  Frederick, please continue to watch over Chrom and Lissa in my absence.”

“With my life,” Frederick said with a bow, “I shall continue to be their sword and their shield.”

With that, the Exalt and her vassal exited the tactics tent.  Chrom shifted a bit clutching the rag even tighter against his arm.  The absence of Emmeryn’s calm radiance made the air feel uncomfortably thick.  Robin glanced over to the silent prince, while Frederick’s steel-clad palm gripped her opposing shoulder.  However, even he chose not to speak. It was as if the gesture was to signal to Robin of the weight she now carried upon her shoulders. 

“Maribelle! Please! Please calm down before you go in there!”  The muffled sound of Lissa’s voice behind the canvas broke the awkward silence for just a moment,

“How can I be calm!? I’m normally cordial with your elder brother but this is asinine!  A war, with Plegia!? Again!? We cannot afford this, Lissa darling, and you know it!”

“I know, I know!” Lissa pleaded, “But, please, you can’t go in there like that!”

“I have every right to chide him for his behavior!  I did not sit beside him in lectures all these years to see him throw away diplomacy like that!”

“But-” Lissa’s voice cracked, “But he did it to save you!”

“I’m not worth it!” Maribelle shot back, “Lissa, my dear, I am not worth fighting a war over!”

“We can hear you!” Frederick called out, “Please mind your voices!”

“Frederick!”

Maribelle parted the tarp with her delicate hand,

“My apologies.” She stammered, “I have come to bring milord his salve.”

Robin slowly blinked upon seeing Maribelle’s quick one-eighty from fuming to firm and regal in less than a minute.  The duchess calmly approached Chrom before kneeling down before him with a fresh rag.  She applied the salve, a soft glow emanating from the tip of the bottle as the clear liquid splashed onto Chrom’s wound, healing it instantly.  He only flinched once.

“Oh,” she muttered, “I thought he would have been asleep by now-”

Her shoulders stiffened when Chrom lifted his head to look into her eyes.  However, the prince lacked any sort of kind gesture to the woman before him.  Nay, he clenched his jaw while his hand slowly slid from his wound.  Lissa poked her head through the gap in the tent, cheeks stained with tears as she viewed the status of her older brother’s wound,

“Chrom…” Lissa whispered, “I’m sorry-”

“I did it for Lissa, above all else.” Chrom muttered, “You’re right, I started this war with my own actions.  I started this war to protect Emmeryn and Lissa.  I started this war to protect you, so that Lissa could have her friend again.  Yeah, diplomacy wasn’t exactly what was going through my mind knowing that a friend of mine was on the chopping block…”

“M-Milord,” Maribelle huffed, “I beg for your forgiveness for my words-”

“Why apologize for the truth?” Chrom growled, “It’s my actions that caused this to happen.  We’re at war with Plegia now, and I got the first blood.  Had I not acted, maybe we could have spared our people.  Maybe we could have reasoned with Gangrel.  Maybe I wouldn’t have to drag others into this conflict who don’t need to be here.”

Robin felt Chrom’s glance towards her, yet she couldn’t find any words to say in response. 

“Milord, no, you misunderstand-”

“So go ahead and chide me, Maribelle.  Chide me for acting on impulse.  Chide me for killing a foreign soldier in defense.  Chide me for bringing Ylisse back into war…just like my father, right?”

Those words sent a chill throughout the room, even Lissa gasped upon hearing her brother’s reply.  Maribelle was speechless, and all she could do was rest upon her knees as Chrom slowly brought himself back to his feet.  He rolled his shoulder a few times, still tender from the wound, and then grabbed Falchion before taking his leave from the tent.  He cast Lissa aside rather harshly, nudging her with his forearm without so much as a word.  Not even Robin had seen this side of Chrom before.

“I’m sorry.” Maribelle whimpered, “I-I had no intention of-”

“Let Lord Chrom fume, Lady Maribelle.” Frederick stated, “He has much on his plate as is, it’s best to leave him alone.  For now, perhaps you should see to it that you write to your father about taking his place at council for the time being.”

“…He is bedridden, yes.” Maribelle said, “Perhaps I fume only because I was not prepared to take up this position myself so soon.”

“As for you, tactician,” Frederick pivoted on his heel towards Robin, “I expect nothing less than your full effort on this part.  Lord Chrom and I have our own strategic merits, but it seems that the Exalt sees something within you to our benefit.  As such, your every move and decision will be heavily scrutinized by not only me, but the rest of our army and the Exalt herself.  You best prepare yourself for that.”

Frederick took his leave, as did a sobbing Maribelle shortly after.  It was just Lissa at the entrance of the tent and Robin left standing.  She had been silent for so long, but Robin was simply trying to take everything in at once.  Her promotion, Chrom’s insistence that she stand down, the strife already dwelling within house Ylisse—it all hit her at once. 

And there was Lissa, alone, head down with tears continuing to cascade down her pale cheeks.  She seemed too young to be in a war, and truly too helpless to really offer any aid to even her brother at that time. 

“Lissa,” Robin began, “are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” Lissa whimpered, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry for all of this.”

“Don’t be sorry, Robin.” She replied, wiping her face on her sleeves, “Emm has so much faith in you—I’m happy you’re going to be our tactician. Really.”

“Chrom doesn’t seem to agree with you,” Robin pointed out, “I don’t want him to resent me.”

“He won’t.” Lissa replied, “Chrom, I don’t think, could ever resent you.  I think—I think he just wants you to be safe.  He wants all of us to be safe. I-I wish…I wish I could help, though.”

Robin calmly approached Lissa, offering a gentle hand upon her shoulder, “Hey, you’re just getting the feel for healing.  You’re still learning in your sister’s stead and under Maribelle, right?”

Lissa’s eyes widened, “You remembered?”

“How could I forget our first conversation?”

“I just wanna help, Robin.” She began to tear up again, “Chrom might have to lead our army, and what am I gonna do?  Emm’s gonna be busy with politics, him with training—but what about me?  What can I do?”

“Continue to study.” Robin said, quite simply put, “The thing is, is that you have a place here, Lissa.  Chrom and Emmeryn know this.  Now, yes, there’s very little you _can_ do.  But in a week’s time?  In a month?  If you stay persistent, you can become something greater.”

“I-I just don’t want to be in the way.” Lissa whimpered, “Emm grabbed me and ran with me, we left both of you to fight.  I could have helped—I could have been there.”

“But we need you now, Lissa.” Robin’s hand went from her shoulder to the top of her head, almost instinctively, “I know you can become stronger.  I believe in you.”

“Th-thanks, Robin.” Lissa sputtered, “Thank you. I’m going to do my best.  I’m going to try so much harder to be there for everyone. I promise!”

She hugged her.  Lissa threw her arms around Robin and embraced her without even a second thought.  Robin hadn’t felt the act of an embrace in…who knows how long?  It felt so foreign to her—but also so nice.  So warm.  Lissa’s love appeared unconditional in that moment.  Robin felt her nerves calming down for just a moment, enough to return the embrace back to Chrom’s little sister. Her first act as tactician for the Ylissean army: console and increase the morale of all soldiers. 

But there was one other soldier that so desperately needed her guidance…

 

* * *

 

Blue eyes settled on the water below, slowly blinking as they took in the image of their beholder.  His features still exemplified his youth, yet if the lord allowed his mind to linger much longer, the reflection staring back at him began to evolve.  It turned into an elder version, with a more pronounced jaw, tired eyes, thick beard, and a cold stare that reflected no love. No remorse. Just fear and anger. 

His father.

“No,” he hissed, “No, no, no!”

His bare fist thrashed against the calm pool below, disrupting the mirror image for only a moment before it reverted back to his usual self.  With a slow, painful blink, Chrom dragged his hand through the water once more before splashing a bit on his face to wash away the salty tears—never before had he cried in front of anyone since he became an adult. He chose not to break that streak anytime soon. 

His thoughts lingered for a moment—what if he just floated down the river?  What if he just laid in the water and let the tide take him?  If only he could be like the lone leaf that fluttered down from the trees and just…left.

Went away.

Gone.

A silly thought at that, if not completely irresponsible.  But at that moment, that’s what he wanted—he wanted peace.  He wanted to simply live his life.  He wanted to be surrounded by friends, by family, without a care in the world. He didn’t want to be like his father—disregarding his people and his loved ones solely to spill Plegian blood.  With Emmeryn on the throne, he wholeheartedly believed the life he wished to live was within reach.  Yet his own brash assault on a Plegian guard caused that life to cease from existence.  He had to follow the path of the warrior; he had to grow up.  He had to be a leader.  While the socio-political factors were upon his elder sister’s plate, Chrom had to walk out into the world with blade in hand, waiting to eradicate the enemy.

And in that moment, he simply wished that Plegia had ceased to exist.

Just like his father…

“Mother,” he muttered, “what do I do?  How do I not be like… _him_?”

“Him?”

Chrom glanced back to the river water, seeing Robin’s reflection looming close to his—hands in her pockets, shoulders relaxed…

 

…and beautifully calm.

 

How he wished he didn’t have to force her to fight for him…

 

“Robin?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry, I know you were musing to yourself.  Forgive me-”

“No, it’s fine.  I’m sorry I stormed off like that.”

“You’re justified in your actions, Chrom.  Trust me, what was said-”

“Was true, though.” Chrom interrupted, “We can’t deny that, Robin.  It’s just a lot to take in at once.”

“I can imagine.” Robin began to approach him, he noticed seeing her reflection appear closer and closer until she knelt down beside him, “But…it’s going to be alright, Chrom.  I’m going to do everything within my power to assist you.”

“But you don’t deserve this,” he shot back, “you don’t deserve to fight in this war.  You didn’t ask to be tossed into this mess, to be put on such a pedestal-”

“What if that’s what I wanted?”

Silence.

He fixed his gaze directly at his tactician, brow furrowed, “How could you want that?”

“Because, Chrom…I want to help you.  I still owe you a debt, you know?”

“Just because we could have left you doesn’t mean you owe us your life, Robin.”

“Chrom…” she sighed, looking back to the river, “Why can’t you understand that I _want_ to do this?  I don’t want to abandon you—all of you.  In the time I’ve spent with you, I…I feel at home.  I feel as if I’ve known everyone here for quite some time.”

Chrom slowly looked away from his tactician back towards his reflection; the presence of his father lingered,

“Our family history with Plegia is a long and complicated one, Robin.  Much of this war is due to my father’s negligence—we’re paying the price for his actions.  Emmeryn, Lissa, and I are simply picking up where he left off.”

“…I disagree.” Robin said, “From what I’m gathering, this is very much a defensive war on our end.  The last Exalt…it seems that he chose the offensive.  Why do you believe this ties you with your father?”

“….” Chrom closed his eyes, cupping his head with his hands, “Because I started it.”

“You didn’t start it, Chrom.”

 

…

Robin’s hand went to his back, gently patting it,

“King Gangrel started it.  You’re protecting your family, your friends, your people… _your loved ones._   You’re fighting for them after he threatened your peace.  To lay down your arms now, would be letting everyone down.”

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this, Robin…”

His voice began to crack, and Robin’s hand stopped for just a moment before she ran it down his spine,

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered, “I said that I would be by your side, Chrom. I’m going to fight for the same reasons you do.”

“Robin…”

 

A pause in the conversation forced Chrom to act on pure emotion—turning his body towards her and leaning in close…

His forehead pressed against hers, tears dripping,

“Thank you.”

Robin froze in place, her shaky hand still remaining on his person.  They were awfully close in that moment, the gap between their noses, their lips…

 

“Of course.” She whispered, “Of course, Chrom…”

 

They knelt in silence for a moment…

Maybe it was a minute…

They simply existed in silence, the sound of the babbling brook the only thing they could hear besides each other’s breaths. Each had their eyes closed, yet their foreheads never parted.  Each felt comfort in the other’s presence—Chrom finally calming down from his anxious state, while Robin’s fear and anxiety of overstepping her bounds ceased to exist.  And they were alone, nonetheless…

They hadn’t been alone for a few days, not since the night he showed her the stars.

“It’s going to be ok…” Robin whispered once more, “Please, believe in me, Chrom.”

“…I do.” He whispered back, “Believe me; I do…”

But as usual, the timing of another Shepherd was impeccable.  Though to their dismay, it was Frederick’s horse which galloped down along the side road, as the clanking of such heavy steel could only be that of Chrom’s knight.  The prince quickly pulled away from his tactician, but the cocked brow upon Frederick’s features signaled that the vassal might have interpreted their moment as something else…

“Milord,” Frederick state, coldly, “we are to proceed on the road at once.  Scouts have found a few lingering Plegian soldiers—they’re most likely searching for us.”

“Right.  Have everyone pack up whatever that they can, we can replace the tents and timber if need be.  Best we move now and leave the campsite to throw ‘em off.”

Frederick looked to Robin, who still knelt upon the ground with flushed cheeks and a dazed gaze,

“…What say you, tactician?”

She snapped out of her daze, rolling to her bottom and raising her hand in the air, “Y-yes! A good idea for now.  They might think we’re settled and attempt a sneak attack.  Perhaps we can prepare a trap or two with any remaining fire and combustibles on hand to lighten the load.”

Frederick rolled his eyes, steering his horse into the opposite direction, gritting his teeth, and replying with a very grumpy, “As you command…Robin.”   


End file.
